


LiV3 and Let Lie

by Zooosh



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cyberpunk, Dystopia, Evil Corporations, Hacking, Heist, Multi, Post-Canon, Rebellion, Resurrection, Science Fiction, Slow Build Oma Kokichi/Yumeno Himiko, Supervillains, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooosh/pseuds/Zooosh
Summary: After the events of the 53rd season, Himiko Yumeno returns to the ruins of the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, hoping to use the forgotten Necronomicon to resurrect the one man who can save her friends from the clutches of the wounded, but still dangerous, Team Danganronpa.





	1. Prologue / A Lone Magician's Fateful Wish

She had sworn she would never go back. And now there was nowhere else to run.

Himiko Yumeno stood on a rocky outcropping, looking down at the ruins of academy she used to call home. No, "home" was the wrong word. "Prison," maybe; "battlefield," definitely; "lie"...well, she would never be sure about that. One thing was for certain: beneath the crumbling buildings and rubble-strewn paths lay the only hope for saving her friends. Possibly the whole world. If it wasn't already too far gone.

Careful not to slip, Himiko lowered herself down to the dewy courtyard. Even in their current state, the Academy grounds were rife with memories of past triumphs and tragedies. The dilapidated dojo: a reminder of her greatest friendship and failure. The broken dorms: a monument to all the nightmares the Killing Semester had brought on her, and the dreams she had dared to hold onto. Despite the urgency of her task, Himiko couldn't help but linger on these markers of her past--it was as though she were staring into a fractured mirror, the images reflected both familiar and alien. 

The hole K1-BO tore in the sky remained overhead, allowing moonlight to stream freely onto the desolate school as she ran. At one time, the starry opening was a promise to Himiko, a sign that the outside world was ready to change. Now she saw the jagged fissure for what it really was: a trap for those too blind to recognize it.

A cool breeze blew through the campus, chilling her skin through the thin prison uniform she wore. Outside these walls, Shuichi Saihara and Maki Harukawa were still captives of the nefarious Team Danganronpa corporation. Only Himiko had managed to escape. And only she could free them. But she couldn't do it alone.

The stairs that lead into the basement were long and dark, beckoning Himiko deeper into the depths of the Academy. With a shaky breath, she drew the lighter she had pilfered during her flight, casting a flickering light on the cracked stone. If she had recharged her MP before coming here, she could have easily cast an illumination spell to light the way. Oh well. No time for rest or regrets. She had work to do.

Somewhere in these shadowy halls lay the two keys to her salvation:

A book of dark arts, long forgotten...

...And the checkered bandanna of the man it would resurrect. 

 


	2. The State of Play / A Dark Promise Finally Fulfilled?

Chloe Schwarzblum knew she was in trouble when her boss announced the meeting would be in Neo-Space. A simple phone call would have done for a reprimand; a video conference for a more extensive dressing-down. But to force the her to enter the virtual realm, to demand that she surrender her mind to a world completely under another's power...Lady Hope must have been really and truly pissed.

Chloe performed a quick breathing exercise as she sat at her desk. Even before Team Danganronpa had given her Ultimate Psychologist talent, the 25-year-old Head of Security had mastered dozens of techniques for combating stress and anxiety. Even so, her slender fingers quivered as she turned the Neo helmet over in her hands, triple-checking to make sure the memory and consciousness jacks were properly connected. Brushing her long dark hair off of her neck, she lowered the helmet over her head, the visor clicking into place and covering her vision entirely.

The Team Danganronpa logo flashed before her eyes, a red progress bar filling as her mind was transported into the digital body of her Neo-Space avatar. It was a form much like the one she inhabited in reality: tall, slim, and sharp, her shining eyes just visible under a shock of dark bangs. It was customary for high-ranking company officials to match their virtual and earthly representations. But that didn't mean Chloe's avatar was completely free of customization. A black, strapless lace dress was the one indulgence she allowed herself, a perfect replica of the outfit she had pined after when she was still living in the rain-streaked slums of New Munich. 

Her mind and body now synchronized with the program, Chloe watched as the meeting venue unfolded into existence before her. A black-and-white checkered floor; arches framed by red curtains with golden trim; sixteen identical podiums arranged in a circle, and a wooden throne overlooking the arrangement. As composed as she was, Chloe's breath still caught in her throat.

It was a perfect replica of the Hope's Peak trial grounds. Not a good sign.

Even less welcome were the people waiting for her, the three of them already stationed at their podiums. It was just like Lady Hope to invite the other Heads, turning what was supposed to be an evaluation into an ambush.

The towering man in the lavender three-piece suit was the first to notice Chloe's presence. "Schwarzblum!" he exclaimed, jabbing a meaty finger in Chloe's direction. "How dare you show your face to us! You should have thrown yourself from the Tokyo Tower the moment the Magician slipped through our perimeter." 

Chloe scowled. It was just like Michael Sugar to leap right to the extreme. The Head of Business Affairs seemed to believe that his impressive physique and Ultimate Grappler talent gave him the right to bully anyone who crossed his path. A useful tactic in negotiations, but one that caused Chloe no small amount of annoyance. Hopefully the vulgar American managed to keep his shirt on the entirety of this meeting--the last thing Chloe needed to deal with today was even more repressed insecurity.

"Must you be so loud, you ingrate?" the man with the admiral coat and eye-patch groaned. "The purpose of this meeting is to punish her, not us." 

Chloe shot a cold glance his way. Odafe Bankole: Head of Technology and keeper of the Ultimate Programmer talent. It was rare for a Head to take on a talent perfectly in line with their given skillset; when it came time to become an Ultimate, most candidates chose talents that complimented or compensated for their innate attributes. The fact that Odafe clung to his computational abilities showed how highly he thought of his particular field. It also made him incredibly easy to bait.

"If anyone should share blame, it should be you, Odafe," Chloe said. "After all, it was your shoddy algorithms that allowed Yumeno to slip under our radar."

"Why you!" Odafe exclaimed, the wooden podium the only thing preventing him from grasping Chloe's neck. "There was no flaw in my programs! How dare you even suggest that--"

Beside Odafe, a white tiger in a neon hoodie jumped up and giggled excitedly. "Eeheeheehee. You're sooooo uptight, Odafe! It's no wonder Chloe loves picking on you!" The tiger turned her attention to Chloe, eyes sparkling. "Oh! Which reminds me: Chloe! How have you been? I heard you came to Japan to check on the contestants, but I haven't seen you around the office at all. We should get coffee soon! Or a pedicure! Maybe a spa weekend! we have sooooo much catching up to do!"

Chloe suppressed a weary sigh. Even in Neo-Space, being around Hikari Ike was exhausting. The Head of Design and Ultimate Tabletop Gamer was an odd duck...or tiger, as the case may be. Her radiant energy and off-beat choice of avatar lead many to believe that she was a quirky daydreamer, but Chloe knew the truth. If she wasn't careful around Hikari, the chirpy woman would gladly plant a knife in Chloe's exposed back.

"All of you, quit derailing our agenda!" Michael growled. "Time is money, and all of you are wasting it!"

Chloe shot a glance into the shadows at the back of the room. She could feel Lady Hope there, reclined in the judge's throne, watching the circus play out before her. Though Chloe couldn't make out her boss's features, her regal white dress and delicate hands were visible enough. That, and the locks of golden hair that fell about her shoulders, radiant even in the darkness. Chloe didn't know much about her superior, but she knew enough to be afraid. Lady Hope had run Team Danganronpa for over two decades, her many talents and ruthless instincts assuring her supremacy was never challenged. Chloe supposed it was for the best: the world depended on Team Danganronpa's entertainment to function, lest it fall back into the chaos of the Burning Age. As one of the stalwart vanguards against those dark times, Lady Hope had earned her title.

Still, at this moment in time Chloe wished the Lady's presence wasn't so...oppressive.

The Security Head cleared her throat, re-centering herself. "Mr. Sugar is right: there's no need to drag this out," she said. "I take full responsibility for the loss of the Ultimate Magician. It was my confinement protocol that proved inadequate, and my men that fell for her illusions, allowing her to escape. I can only beg and hope for your forgiveness."

"Awwww Chloe, don't be sad!" Hikari squeaked. "I'm sure the next Ultimate Magician that comes around, you'll be on her like a cat on a plastic bag!" 

Odafe sneered. "Your apologies do us no good, Schwarzblum. I believe a changing of the guard is necessary to assure the company's safety. Who knows? Maybe the other two are preparing for their escape this very moment."

Chloe felt her cheeks flash hot with rage, but she kept her expression neutral. "There's no need for such drastic action. Security has been tightened around the Detective and Assassin, and my agents are already on Yumeno's trail. This crisis will be resolved in less than a week."

Hikari ran her paws through her whiskers. "Do we even know what Himiko's gonna do next? What if she gets a buncha anti-Killing Game nutjobs on her side and tries to spring her friends outta here?" 

Odafe sighed. "This is why I suggested we wipe their characters the moment we captured them. They're nothing but a liability."

"Don't you start that again!" Michael exclaimed. "Those kids represent billions in labor and resources. There's no way we're spending another mother load redeveloping them, not when we have a chance to recoup our losses." 

Right when Chloe was sure the Heads would devolve into their old arguments, Lady Hope's resonant voice rang out from the back. "Do Maki and Shuichi know their friend has escaped?" she asked.

The other Heads fell silent. Chloe swallowed. "No," she said. "And I'll make sure they never do."

Even in the darkness, she could detect Lady Hope's smirk. "I wouldn't speak so boldly, if I were you," she cooed. "After all, you are committing the same sin that allowed Himiko to escape." She leaned forward, allowing the cruel gleam in her eye to pierce the shadows. "You are underestimating them."

* * *

"She's not coming," Maki murmured, casting a covert glance at the security camera overlooking the dining table.

Shuichi nodded, absently stirring his soup. Five missed dinners in a row: too many to be attributed to illness or negligence. It was safe to assume that Himiko was no longer in the confines of the Monokuma Hotel. The question now was: why? It was a mystery the Ultimate Detective had been mulling over since the morning and, seeing how tense Maki was, he deduced it was one she had been struggling with as well. 

It was to be expected, he supposed. Their world had been defined by uncertainty the moment they had stepped out of the Killing Semester and into the blinding light of the outside world. It was a world unlike anything the former students could've anticipated, a shining utopia of peace with an ugly, violent heart; a populace under constant surveillance by corporations and governments alike, the killing entertainment of Danganronpa being the only outlet for their repressed emotions and urges.  Maybe it was naive of Shuichi to believe that his friends could change such a society so easily. But it still came as a shock how quickly Team Danganronpa had found and detained them.

Fortunately, if Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko were baffled by their new world, the new world was just as baffled by them. As far as Shuichi could tell, no contestant had ever escaped the confines of the Danganronpa series before, much less forced it to implode while the whole world watched.  As a consequence, the three survivors had become a weird cross between the world's most beloved celebrities and its most wanted criminals. Some reviled them for ending the most popular show on the planet; others saw the 53rd season as a wake-up call, and demanded killing entertainment be discontinued entirely; still others existed somewhere in between, cheering on the 53rd class' daring while still hoping for another season. Protests and counter-protests rocked the globe, making it difficult for the powers that be to determine which way the public winds were blowing. There was no legal precedent for the "crimes" the survivor's had committed, and no backup plan or protocol for dealing with the fallout. 

For now, Team Danganronpa's answer seemed to be a tenuous compromise between imprisonment and reintegration. Rather than jail Shuichi and his friends, the corporation cleared out one of their resort hotels and placed the remaining Ultimates under house arrest, transforming the building into a luxury fortress. Every square foot was packed with guards, cameras, and automated security measures, and each prisoner was confined to a separate floor, dinners and photo ops being the only time they were allowed to see each other. It was an odd arrangement, but one that had its desired effect: placating fans of the 53rd class while still keeping the students under control until the higher ups could figure out the next move.

It had been six months since they were checked into their high-class holding cell. Six months of sleepless nights and lonely mornings; six months spent pacing the holes in the carpet while the T.V. blared, trying to make sense of the new world and all its madness; six months of wondering if each day might be their last. Now Shuichi and Maki sat in an otherwise empty banquet hall, the stunning view of the skyline completely wasted on their fretful moods.

Maki's fingers drummed restlessly by the handle of her steak knife. "They better not have done anything to her," she stated flatly, failing to hide her rising bloodlust. "If Himiko comes back with a hair or memory out of place, I'll make them beg for mercy before I bleed them dry."

Shuichi swallowed nervously. He didn't doubt that Maki could back up that threat, or at least that she would die trying. "I don't think it'll come to that," he said. "I doubt Team Danganronpa had anything to do with her disappearance."

Maki's eyes narrowed skeptically. "What makes you say that?"

"Just a hunch," Shuichi admitted. "But if they were planning on executing us or wiping our memories, I think they would do it all at once. Removing us one at a time just puts pressure on the survivors to take matters into their own hands."

Maki paused, then shook her head. "I see what you mean, but that's just an assumption. It's also possible that they've just managed to finish building one flashback light, and so can only wipe one of us at a time." 

Shuichi crossed his arms in thought. What Maki described was a possibility. During their time in Team Danganronpa's "care", Shuichi and Maki had learned that flashback lights were surprisingly difficult to come by outside of the killing game. Creating false memories or talents that would be accepted by a target's mind was no simple task, and the tech used to build the devices wasn't cheap either. Precise care had to be taken during their manufacture, or else there could be a whole host of side-effects and unintended consequences. The flashback light creation device Tsumugi Shirogane had used during the 53rd season was apparently one of a kind, an invention that Team Danganronpa had spent years and billions developing. Now it lay broken and buried with the rest of the ruined Academy. Probably for the best, Shuichi thought.

"It's possible they can only afford to rewrite us one at a time, but it's also unlikely," Shuichi explained. "After all, if that were the case, they probably would've started with you, as you pose the largest threat to them and their staff."

Maki nodded and turned away, her gaze distant. Shuichi knew that expression well: it was the look of an assassin who had seen and committed countless horrors, and yet, despite herself, was starting once again to hope. 

"So...then that means..." Maki said.

"Yes." Shuichi confirmed. Himiko had likely escaped.

Maki fell silent for a moment, making sure she kept her face blank for the cameras. Outside the window, the two friends could make out the twinkling lights of the city, as well as the faint shadows of protesters camped outside the resort's walls. 

"Do you know what she'll do next?" the Assassin finally asked.

Shuichi hesitated. The truth was, he already had a pretty solid theory about Himiko's next move. If the tiny magician had as much faith in her friends and magical abilities as Shuichi suspected she did, there was only one place she could've gone. But Maki wasn't going to like it. In fact, there was a chance she would launch a bloody breakout attempt of her own, just to make sure it didn't happen.

"No, I don't," the Detective finally lied.

* * *

 "Nyeh?!" Himiko froze with a start, almost dropping her lighter in the process. A shattered, mechanical face was sticking out of the rubble, it's features bisected in black and white. It could only be one thing: the remains of MotherKuma. If the heart-shaped chemical lights hanging from the ceiling weren't enough of a clue, this confirmed it: Himiko had found the mastermind's layer. The key that she sought was close.

Using her extensive knowledge of hidden compartments as well as the blueprints shown to her by the...source she had met outside, Himiko quickly found the false panel behind MotherKuma's podium. She moved the cracked plaster aside, revealing a hidden doorway. It was impossible to see what was on the other side: the pink glow of the heart lights were too weak to penetrate the murky passageway. Still, Himiko knew what was waiting for her on the other end. And she knew she was going to hate it.

Taking a deep breath, Himiko stepped into the shadows. The flickering flame of her lighter revealed a room lined with metal freezers on either side, each with eight labeled compartments. There was no mistaking it: she had found the morgue.

A wave of nausea crashed though Himiko's stomach, causing her to double over. If only there was someone else around so she could use her puke-transfer spell. Lacking that, she would have to work fast. Averting her gaze from the freezer doors, Himiko quickly moved to the back of the room, hoping beyond hope that her source was right. A scratched metal table gradually took shape in the darkness. And resting on top...

It was the motive from the third class trial; the mysterious tome that supposedly had the power to raise the dead; the dreaded Necronomicon. 

Himiko shivered as her hand closed around it. To be holding an object that had caused her so much pain, that had lead to the death of two of her friends and the continuation of the Killing Semester...it was almost too much to bear. Part of Himiko wanted to scream and cry and rip it to shreds, or cast a black hole spell and send it spiraling into oblivion. But neither was an option: she needed this book if she ever wanted to see Shuichi and Maki again. And she only had so much MP to spare, anyway. 

Pushing down her feelings of revulsion and regret, Himiko searched for the second item on her list. It didn't take long: resting in a basket nearby was a pile of clothes taken from the deceased Ultimates. At the very top was a familiar purple jacket, still splattered with blood from the wearer's final moments. Himiko resisted the urge to vent her guts right there, instead digging deeper into the pile until she found what she was looking for: a tattered white uniform formerly belonging to the man she came to resurrect. The Ultimate Supreme Leader. Kokichi Oma.

With the Necronomicon and clothing in hand, Himiko dashed out of the morgue as quickly as she could, gasping for breath as she reentered the mastermind's lair. Using scraps of couch cushions and furniture from the wreckage, she stuffed the uniform and arranged it in a humanoid shape, laying the checkered scarf on top to complete the improvised effigy. Himiko hoped it would be enough.

The rules of the Necronomicon were simple:

"1. Prepare an effigy of the dead soul you wish to contact.

2\. After preparing the effigy, burn the Necronomicon to ashes.

3\. Sprinkle the ashes on the effigy and repeat the name of the deceased three times.

4\. Then close your eyes and wait. You should feel a light tap on your back. If so, that means the ritual was a success."

Her heart hammering in her chest, Himiko raised the dark tome over the lighter. There was no going back from this. She had one shot, and one shot only. Whatever happened next would change the course of her life, and possibly that of the entire world, forever.

She hesitated. A thousand doubts and questions raced through her mind. If this really worked, she could bring any of her former classmates back. Why did it have to be him? She could bring back Kaito. Or K1-BO. Or...

Tenko.

The memory of the spirited martial artist almost caused Himiko's knees to give out. There was nothing she wanted more than to see Tenko one more time. Himiko needed to see her smiling face, to hear her encouraging words and...to tell her she was sorry.

Himiko blinked, then let the tears flow freely. No. That wasn't what Tenko would want. She would want Himiko to do what was right. She would want Himiko to give it her all and save Shuichi and Maki no matter what. She would want...she would want the little magician to move on, and face her fears with eyes wide open.

Himiko lifted her gaze, flicked the lighter, and set the Necronomicon ablaze. The pages burned an eerie green, but she did not look away.

When the fire subsided, she scooped up the ashes and dusted the effigy with trembling hands. Closing her eyes, Himiko clasped her palms together, knelt on the floor, and recited:

"Kokichi Oma.

Kokichi Oma.

Kokichi........Oma."

Silence. A minute passed. Than another.

Nothing. No magic light. No gust of wind. No wicked laugh.  Just the sound of Himiko's shallow, anxious breaths.

Then.

A tap on her shoulder.

"Neehee. Waiting for someone?" a cheery voice asked.

Himiko's eyes snapped open.


	3. The Magician and the Overlord / A Ruinous Reunion, A Rambling Romantic

"Neehee. Waiting for someone?" a cheery voice asked.

Himiko's eyes snapped open.  She stood and whirled around in an instant, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.

It couldn't be. It was impossible. And yet, there he was, his devilish eyes twinkling in the pink glow of the chem lights, a fiendish yet innocent smile stretched across his pale features. 

Kokichi Oma had returned.

"Watch yourself there, twinkle-toes," he laughed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"K-kokichi, y-you, I-" Himiko tried to speak, but her tongue had become as clumsy as her legs. A torrent of surprise, fear, relief, and joy cascaded through her all at once, washing the words she had prepared right out of her mind.

"As articulate as ever, I see," the Ultimate Supreme Leader grinned. "Although...hey, have you gotten a little taller?"

At this, Himiko instinctively straightened with pride. "That's right. I've been drinking my milk every day. Now I'm a whole five centimeters taller than I was before!"

"Hmm...I'd say four and a half at most."

"Nyeh?!" Had he seen through her lie so easily?

"More importantly..." Kokichi said, casting a glance around the room. "Where are the others? I want to rub it in their faces that I, Kokichi Oma, Supreme Leader of Evil, managed to end the Killing Game single-handedly and lived to tell the tale!"

Himiko tensed. "Th-that's...what I mean is, um...it's..."

The smile dropped from Kokichi's face. "No...don't tell me you killed them all Himiko?"

"What? No! I would never--"

"Waaaaaahhhh!" Kokichi wailed in terror. "Himiko killed everyone, and now she's brought me back to kill me too! Kaito's dead! Shuichi's dead! Maki, Kee-boy, Tsumugi--this pint-sized Pinochet has slaughtered them allllll!"

"Th-that's not true! Shuichi and Maki are still alive!"

Kokichi's jaw dropped. "What? My beloved Detective lives? Oh, your cruelty knows no bounds, vile sorceress! You kept my best friend alive just so you could make me watch him diiiee!"

"No!" Himiko shouted. "Stop it! I didn't kill anyone!"

"Oh, okay." The terror instantly vanished from Kokichi's features, replaced with mild puzzlement. "Then where are they?"

"I-it's...I..." Himiko paused, struggling to find a simple explanation. "Some bad people captured them. And that's why I came here: so you could help me with the rescue mission."

Far from mollifying him, this summary only seemed to annoy the impish Overlord. "Bad people?" he exclaimed. "Rescue mission? What the hell are you talking about?"

"A lot of stuff has happened, okay? It's hard to explain."

Kokichi sighed. "Well, can you at least tell me who brought you here? Surely I deserve to know the person who planned this so-called mission."

"What?" Himiko blinked, surprised. "How did you know I didn't come alone?"  

"If these people were able to capture Shuichi and Maki, there's no way you'd be able to dodge them by yourself. And it's just as doubtful you'd be the one to come up with a plan this audacious. "

"Hey! That's not fair!" the Magician pouted. "You're making it sound like I'm some kind of helpless sidekick!"

"Neeheehee," Kokichi giggled, his smirk unwavering. "Himiko, don't take this the wrong way, but if brains were boobs, you'd have neither."

"Is there supposed to be a right way of taking that?!" she fumed. "Why are you being so mean to me? If it wasn't for my magic you'd still be nothing more than a puddle of icky goo!"

"Your magic?" Kokichi tilted his head. "Uh, I woke up in a cloning pod. Are you saying you think a spell brought me back?"

"Of course, because I saw it! I burned the Necronomicon and brought you back with my magic!"

"I'm telling you, I'm just a clone of Kokichi. Geeze, how can you be so childish?"

The Magician clenched her fists. "Stop lying! There were no cloning-whatevers on the blueprints. And if you're a clone, how come you have all of Kokichi's memories?"

The Overlord thought for a moment, then laughed. "Oh, you're right: I lied. I'm actually a Kokichi from another dimension. I built a time machine and came here to avenge my own death!"

Himiko clenched her eyes in frustration. "That's crazy! Just admit it was magic!"

"No, you see, I'm actually Kokichi's twin brother, Bobichi! I..."

"IT. WAS. MAGIC!" Himiko stomped on the floor as hard as she could, quivering with rage. The echo of her footfall reverberated through the room. Then the stones on the floor began to shake. A distant rumble sounded from deeper in the basement, growing louder by the second.

Himiko turned towards the sound, just in time to see a crack split the nearby wall, chips of concrete falling as the fracture spread upwards. 

"Nyeh?" she gasped. "What's going on?"

Kokichi scoffed. "That's so like you, Himiko. You can't win an argument fair and square, so you cast a cave-in spell to shut me up."

"N-no!" Himiko waved her hands frantically. "I didn't--this isn't a spell, it--!"

"It's not?!" Kokichi's eyes widened. "Then we need to get out of here right now!" A bone-shaking BOOM thundered underneath Himiko's feet, as though underscoring Kokichi's point. "Run Himiko!" he shouted. 

She didn't need to be told twice. With Kokichi trailing close behind, Himiko sprinted back the way she came in, weaving through the underground tunnels, guided only by the flickering flame of her lighter. Shadows danced around her as the walls shook. Chunks of rock fell from above, the whole ceiling threatening to collapse at any moment. 

Himiko's legs burned as she ran out of the mastermind's lair and into the remains of the library, miraculously avoiding the heavy books bouncing from their resting places. She looked back briefly to see Kokichi duck an errant dictionary, then yelp as an entire bookshelf fell mere centimeters from his feet. Despite her terror, she felt a small spark of satisfaction: not even the Ultimate Supreme Leader was completely unshakeable.

"Less smirking, more sprinting!" Kokichi barked, vaulting over the collapsed furniture. Himiko turned and doubled her efforts towards the stairs, managing to clear two at a time despite her...not-yet-long legs.

A ceiling pockmarked with stars greeted her as she made it to the foyer, revealing that the impending cave-in had reached even the ground floor. If she didn't escape soon, the entire building would buckle on top of her. 

"This way!" Himiko called as Kokichi caught up. Not that he needed direction: through the cloud of dust, the exit shown ahead, a stream of moonlight guiding the way. Both the Magician and Overlord dashed towards freedom, gasping and pumping their legs as hard as they could. Three meters to go. Then two. Then...

A violent tremor rocked the floor below, causing Himiko's ankle to twist beneath her. She tripped with a gasp, falling behind Kokichi as he reached the exit. His pale form didn't slow for an instant as he cleared the threshold to safety. 

"Wait!" Himiko cried, but her tiny voice was swallowed by another massive quake. She glanced over her shoulder, only to see the floor behind her rapidly folding in on itself, the underground passageways imploding in rapid succession. She froze in terror, helpless and alone, mere moments from being buried with the rest of the accursed Academy. 

Himiko shut her eyes, ready for it to end.

A hand suddenly clasped around hers, yanking her upright and towards the exit. Before she could register was happening, Himiko tumbled through the doorway, falling on top of Kokichi as the two Ultimates collapsed into the grass.

The building soon followed suit, the roar of its demise deafening as blinding clouds of dust and soot burst from its foundations. Himiko coughed and rubbed her eyes, fighting back the all-out assault on her senses. By the time she could see again and hear again, it was over: a sink hole full of rubble was all that remained of the Ultimate Academy's main hall. 

"Um, Himiko?" Kokichi grunted, breaking her daze. "Y'mind letting go before you break my fingers?"

Himiko blushed and quickly released Kokichi's hand. She hadn't even realized she was still gripping it so tightly. "You...you saved me," she murmured.

"Don't read too much into it," Kokichi said, standing and dusting himself off. "I just know from experience that getting flattened is not a fun way to go."

"Aw, c'mon now Kokichi, that's no way to talk to your princess!" a boisterous voice rang out from behind them. "Especially after such a heroic escape!"

Himiko and Kokichi turned to see a young woman bounding their way, her messy pink hair bouncing with every step. The Overlord cast a side-glance at the Magician.

"A friend of yours?" he asked.

"More than just a friend!" the woman interrupted. "I'm the champion of love, reuniting hearts through the boundaries of space, time, and even death itself!"

"Stop," Himiko protested. "I told you, we're not--"

"Ah ah!" the woman placed a finger to Himiko's lips, cutting her off. "I know what you want to say, Himiko, but this is a matter of romantic destiny. There's no time for splitting hairs!"

Kokichi squinted at Himiko. "Please don't tell me this isn't the person who brought you here."

"Nyeh..." Himiko muttered. She was afraid this would happen. "Um...Kokichi, this is Paris. She's..."

"The Ultimate Hacker, survivor of the 50th Killing Semester, and amorous villain extraordinaire!" Paris announced with a little pirouette. "Pleased to meetcha!"

Kokichi blinked, for a moment struck speechless. "50th what now?" he finally asked. "Romantic who?"

Paris froze, exchanging a surprised look with an incredibly embarrassed Himiko. "You mean he doesn't...?" she asked. "Oohhhh boy. Kokichi, you are in for one hell of a heart-to-heart."

 


	4. Revelations / A Rain-Slicked Betrayal At Hotel Monokuma?

"I'm just saying," Paris said, swerving the van through another yellow light. "Even if he learns the truth about Danganronpa, that doesn't mean his feelings for you are gonna change."

Himiko crossed her arms, sinking deeper into the passenger seat. "He doesn't have any feelings for me." she sulked.  "Just like I don't have any for him. That's what I keep telling you."

"Yeah, yeah," Paris smirked. "I watched the fifth class trial with everyone else. I saw how you looked when he said he liked you."

Himiko stiffened, the mention of that impossible case igniting traces of fear and confusion still lingering in her heart. "That was just Kaito pretending to be Kokichi," she muttered. "And anyway, I bet Kokichi only put that in his script to mess with me." Himiko lowered her hat over her eyes, grateful she had thought to grab a spare uniform from the Academy's remains.

Paris glanced at Himiko, but said nothing more. The patter of rain against the windshield filled the silence as the Ultimate Hacker navigated the grey city streets, taking sudden turns and back routes every time she could. "Defensive driving," she had called it. The small, boxy jammer on the dashboard kept the vehicle cloaked from the drones hovering around the city, but Team Danganronpa wasn't above using good old-fashioned tails to track their enemies. 

Himiko hazarded a glance over her shoulder. The back of the van was crammed with wires and monitors, a loose collage of tech Paris had turned into a mobile base over her years on the run. On a futon in the thick of the mess sat Kokichi, his indigo pupils lit by the tablet in his hands. Though Himiko couldn't make out the screen, she knew what he was watching: a playlist of news reports, behind-the-scenes footage, and recorded broadcasts of the 53rd season, all picked by Paris to bring the Ultimates she rescued up to speed.  It was a devastating montage, one that laid bare the truth about Team Danganronpa, Killing Entertainment, and the sterile society they helped maintain. Even though Himiko had already known the Killing Semester was a lie, she was still almost reduced to a sobbing mess the first time she saw those videos.

So why was Kokichi's face completely blank?

Paris sighed, pulling Himiko's attention forward. "Sorry," the Hacker murmured. "I know it's annoying when I get all mushy and...matchmake-y or whatever. But I can't help it. That's how Team Danganronpa wrote me." She laughed ruefully. "It's a good gimmick, right? 'The genius hacker obsessed with romance, hoping to escape the Killing Game and reunite with her one true love...'" her smile dropped. "'Course, that love turned out to be a lie. Just like everything else."

Himiko was taken aback. Paris had never really talked about her experience as a contestant before. At first, Himiko had just known her as the mysterious voice that piped into her hotel room, urging her to escape and helping her dodge security. Then, when Himiko met Paris in person, she became that pushy, pink-haired girl who wouldn't shut up about the Magician's love life. Now...

"Nyeh..." Himiko said, meeting Paris' apologetic gaze. "That sounds hard."

Paris shrugged. "I dunno. It's kinda poetic when you think about it. A romance lost forever...an lifelong quest to find real love...as purposes go, that's not so bad, right?" 

Himiko smiled. "Yeah. I guess it's kinda pretty when you look at it that way."

"So it was all a lie," Kokichi said.

The two girls exchanged a startled look. Himiko turned in her seat, and saw Kokichi placing the tablet down, his expression still completely unreadable.

"Not just the Gofer project," he stated flatly. "Our lives, our memories, even our talents...none of them were real?" 

Himiko swallowed and nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Would he scream in anger? Cry in despair? Lie and say he saw it coming all along?

A smile slowly spread across Kokichi's features. It was a smile Himiko knew well; a smile shining with innocence, yet dripping with malice; a smile that seemed to suck the light out of the room, until all you could focus on was that horrible, diabolical grin. 

"That's brilliant!" The Overlord cackled.

* * *

Chloe woke in her bed with a start. It was that same dream again: the nightmare that had invaded her sleep since the end of her 53rd season. A vision of herself back in the streets of New Munich, alone and abandoned, all power, influence, and talent stripped from her body. Chloe ran her fingers through her hair, forcing herself to calm down. It was okay. She wasn't going back.

No matter what happened, she would never, ever go back.

"Security feed, main entrance," she commanded into the air. Instantly, a screen on her wall blinked to life, illuminating the rest of her bedroom. It was an expansive, yet sparse space, the furniture and decor unchanged since Team Danganronpa had first given her the space. The Psychologist had made only one addition: a long painting at the head of her bed, depicting one of her favorite optical illusions. To a casual observer, it would appear to be a print of a gorgeous bed of wildflowers. Yet upon closer inspection, one would instead see a field of carefully arranged body parts instead. A reminder that not everything was as it seemed.

Chloe's eyes narrowed as a live camera feed of the Monokuma Hotel appeared on her screen. She had viewed this stream easily one hundred times since Lady Hope had sentenced her to indefinite suspension, pending investigation.  Chloe would call it her compulsive check-ins a coping mechanism, but the video she saw brought her absolutely zero comfort.

On the screen, she could make out the clustered protestors outside of the hotel gates, standing vigil even in the pouring rain. She could also make out the huge transport trucks parked in the wall's interior, each bearing the logo of Odafe's tech company.

It was as Chloe feared: the Programmer was using her absence as an excuse to take over the security of the hotel, probably with the goal of proving her obsolete. She knew Odafe had his own opinions on how best to keep Danganronpa safe, but this was more than an experiment. This was a naked power grab. Of course Odafe wouldn't be satisfied with just one title and talent, the arrogant, aristocratic piece of...

Chloe clenched her fist. It took every ounce of will she had just to stop from marching over to the hotel this instant and throttling the Programmer with her bare hands. But Lady Hope was very clear: Chloe was a de facto prisoner on the company campus until the investigation was complete. If she...WHEN she got her job back, there was gonna be hell to pay. She swore it.

Chloe blinked. There was new movement on the security feed.

Hold on...was that...?

* * *

Maki paused as she was re-racking the dumbbells, listening carefully to the air round her. She tuned out the hum of the hotel gym's fan, focusing on the hallway just beyond the entrance. 

No footsteps. That wasn't right. There should be a patrol passing any second now. Maki had memorized the routes and schedules of the guards on her floor months ago, and the pattern had held until now. Were they delayed by some emergency? Maybe some of the security team had been sent after Himiko, leaving gaps in their defenses. Whatever the reason, the Assassin had gone through her entire nighttime training regimen without detecting a single presence outside.

And that meant she had an opportunity.

Maki moved to the mats in the corner and began her cool-down routine. It was the same as every night: 100 sit-ups, 100 push-ups, and a series of stretches carefully orchestrated to block the view of the security cameras. As she finished, she reached into a a concealed tear in the mat, and withdrew the steak knife she had stolen her first night in the hotel. It was hardly an ideal weapon: the balance was all wrong for combat, and the blade wasn't honed to inflict the quick, decisive wounds the Assassin favored. Cutting down targets with this would be like trying to eat spaghetti with her hands: messy, but it would get the job done. As Shuichi had guessed, Team Danganronpa would likely exhaust every option before execution. If she was fast, she might be able to fight her way to freedom before the guards were cleared to use lethal force. It was a long shot, but she had to take it.

The impossible was possible. All she had to do was make it so.

Steeling herself for war, Maki stormed over to the gym door and threw it open. An empty hallway greeted her on the other side, blood-red carpet running in either direction. Keeping the knife at the ready, Maki dashed down the open corridor, feet barely making a sound as she ran. Her heightened senses detected no threats in the immediate area--no clack of shouldered weapons or whiff of cheap deodorant. So far so good. If she could make it to the stairs without a single encounter, her chances of success skyrocketed. From there, she could make her way down to Shuichi's room without drawing too much attention, and then the Detective could help her avoid the remaining security blocks on their way to freedom. It was all falling into place. She just needed to...

Maki rounded the corner and froze in her tracks.

Two hulking creatures were waiting for her several yards away, standing motionless beside the stairway entrance. Within a split second, Maki recognized their hunched forms and blinking red eyes.

They were Exisals.

Or, more accurately, a new, more compact version of the metallic beasts, with an extra set of limbs and no room for a cockpit. If Maki had to guess, she would wager that these were what had replaced the usual, flesh-and-blood soldiers. Perfect. Just perfect. She had brought a knife to a robot fight.

Before Maki could turn back, the Exisals' red eyes lit up. They started forward, articulated claws clicking to life, limbs extending into a combat stance. 

This was bad. All of Maki's expertise was in the art of killing humans. Taking down opponents that didn't bleed, didn't feel pain, and had an extra set of limbs to boot--the Assassin was at a serious disadvantage.

The first Exisal let out a guttural roar as it swung at Maki's torso. She leapt out of the way with centimeters to spare, springing off the wall and landing on top of her attacker. Before it could recover, she jammed the knife into its shoulder socket, stabbing through the narrow gap between its armored plating. Sparks flew and the beast squealed, its rightmost arms going limp. Perfect. Now all she had to do was wrench the knife free and...

The blade caught with a metallic click, throwing Maki off balance. It was stuck! Before the Assassin could readjust, the second Exisal was upon her, swinging both its left arms into her side. The blow knocked the air from her lungs, and set her careening into a nearby painting, shattering the frame.

She landed on the floor with a pained wheeze, shards of glass raining around her. In their reflection, she could see the Exisals approaching. The tactician inside her screamed for retreat but...but...she couldn't give up now. She had to get out. She had to find Himiko. She had to...

The first Exisal reached for Maki's leg, its iron grip closing around her ankle. Maki spun around and delivered a kick to the robot's elbow joint. The blow would've shattered a human's arm instantly; on the Exisal, it was barely enough to loosen its grip. Still, she managed to slip from the abomination's grasp, and rise to her feet in time to spring away from the follow up. She scooped up a loose piece of glass as she rolled past the first Exisal, and shot the improvised dagger at the eye of the second creature. The projectile struck true, forcing its target back a pace. The way to the stairs was clear. Maki sprinted forward.

Only to have her legs yanked from under her. Before Maki could twist around to counter, she felt herself hoisted into the air, the entire world flipping before her eyes. It was then that she saw it: the first Exisal's tail was coiling up her calves, rapidly restraining her from head to toe. It wasn't long before her entire body was wrapped tight, the metal cable squeezing hard it was difficult to breathe.

With a chirp of approval, the Exisal's marched back the way Maki had come, the Assassin dangling helpless behind them. 

So close...she had been so close to freedom.

Now she wondered if she would ever taste it again.

* * *

 Odafe sipped from his glass as he watched Maki's capture on the monitor, the success of his Exisals only making the taste of wine that much sweeter. He chuckled to himself. What a fool Schwarzblum was, to have trusted the Ultimate's guardianship with mere humans. His automatons may not have much personality or charisma, but they would never fall for the illusions of a magician. Or the combat prowess of an assassin.

The Programmer reclined at his desk, taking in the splendor of the penthouse suite around him. The entirety of Tokyo was visible in the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of him, a constellation of twinkling lights and holo-ads. Yes...Odafe could get used to this view. It was fitting for a genius such as himself, a man with Danganronpa royalty running in his blood. Once he was in control of security as well as tech, it was only a matter of time before the other departments fell under his influence as well. Soon, even Lady Hope herself would have to acknowledge his prowess. Odafe shivered at the very thought.

With a few nibble keystrokes, the Head of Technology ran a diagnostic on the Exisals Maki had encountered. The damage to their systems was negligible; Odafe doubted he would even have to take them in for maintenance until their next scheduled rotation. Still, it wouldn't hurt to play it safe. Complacency may have been Schwarzblum's undoing, but it would not be his.

Before he could authorize the guard change, a notification blipped on the monitor. One of his scanners had picked up abnormal motion. Curious, Odafe tabbed over to the main exterior camera, expecting to find a bird or rodent had stood in front of the lens a bit too long.

What he saw caused him to choke on his drink.

Sputtering, he ran a quick scan of his systems, convinced the feed had somehow been tampered with. But, as impossible as it was, the image was authentic. 

Outside the hotel gates, the crowd of protestors had parted around three figures. 

The first Odafe recognized as Paris, the Ultimate Hacker-turned-fugitive. She was standing completely still, shivering in the rain, hands clasped on her head in submission.

The second subject was none other the escaped magician, Himiko Yumeno. She was being held as a human shield, a foreign arm wrapped around her waist and a knife at her throat.

And holding that knife...was Kokichi Oma. Back from the dead, and wearing a smile that would chill the Devil himself.

As though sensing Odafe's gaze, the Overlord looked directly into the camera, his eyes sparkling. "Neeheehe," he laughed. "Guess who's back in the game?" 

 


	5. The Edge of Truth / All's Foul in Love and War?

Odafe couldn't believe what was happening. No sooner had he assumed command of Team Danganronpa's security when who should show up on his doorstep? Not only the missing member of the 53rd class, but the renegade Ultimate who had freed her as well. And they were being held hostage by a student the world had last seen crushed into a bloody pulp.

How was this possible? Could it be...was Lady Hope telling the truth? Was the Necronomicon really..?

Whatever the explanation, Odafe had to act fast. Keying into the security controls, he opened the front gates, allowing the three Ultimates to move out of the crowds and into the hotel grounds. Two Exisals lumbered out to greet them, one of which Odafe ordered to run an identification scan. In less than a second, the results appeared on his monitor. Facial match: 99.9%. Retinal match: 100%. The scans didn't lie: the Ultimate Supreme Leader was indeed standing before him. 

Odafe couldn't resist a smirk. Fortune was truly smiling upon him tonight. Capturing Himiko alone would have cemented his position above the other Heads. But to bring in an additional fugitive AND a fan-favorite from the last season? The Programmer wouldn't be surprised if Lady Hope named him her successor right then and there.  Finally, his destiny--the destiny of the Bankole family--was in reach. 

But that didn’t mean he could be careless. As he watched Kokichi force Paris and Himiko across the cobblestone courtyard towards the grand patio, Odafe pondered his next move. Though he had access to the Ultimate Supreme Leader's character architecture, Kokichi’s motives and true nature were still an enigma to the Head of Technology. Credit where credit was due: Hikari and her designers had done an outstanding job of creating a wily adversary, one who had nearly undone Tsumugi Shirogane’s plans himself. Now the Overlord was no longer bound by the context of a Killing Game, making him even more unpredictable and dangerous. What’s worse, he had apparently subdued the Magician and Hacker by himself, and now held their lives in his hands. If the Programmer moved carelessly, he might end up losing two prizes instead of gaining three.

Still, for all his craftiness, Kokichi had made a serious blunder. His opening move had landed him right in the center of Odafe’s security web, a web that the Programmer had refined and reinforced since the Magician had escaped. Even if Kokichi had gotten intel out of Paris, it was meaningless now. Which meant the Ultimate Supreme Leader was going up against an opponent he knew nothing about, one armed with weapons he couldn’t comprehend. The math wasn’t in his favor, and the poor Overlord had no idea.

Odafe chuckled. Perhaps underestimating Team Danganronpa was a key flaw in Kokichi’s DNA. It would explain why his plan during the fifth trial failed as well. Oh, well. The Programmer would have to ask Hikari someday. From the CEO’s throne, of course.

Kokichi’s voice piped in through the speakers, snapping Odafe out of his thoughts. “What’s with all the walking dumpsters?” the Overlord asked, his eyes darting between the Exisals. “Some red carpet. Who’s in charge here? I wanna speak to the manager!”

Odafe frowned, then ported his video and audio feed into the lead Exisal. There was no way that the Programmer was going down there personally, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give his new “guests” a personal greeting. “Hello Kokichi,” he purred as the Exisal’s P.O.V. filled his screen. “So glad you and your friends could make it.”

Kokichi’s eyes snapped to the Exisal, no doubt staring at video feed of Odafe that had just materialized over its head. Up close, the Programmer could see why the diminutive Ultimate commanded such a following. There was an aura of intriguing uncertainty hovering about him, one that Odafe felt even across the network connection. No matter what position Kokichi was playing from, he always smiled as though he were in possession of a secret only he understood, one he could let you in on, or use to destroy you at a moment’s notice.

The full Supreme Leader regalia he wore only cemented the impression: his cape billowed in the wind as he turned to face his opponent, and his eyes glinted under the brim of his dictator’s cap. The light from the hotel patio cast heavy shadows through the curtains of rain, accentuating the eerie atmosphere.

“You’re the one running the show, right?” Kokichi said. “I’m warning you now: there’s nothing I find more boring than talking to middlemen."

"Indeed," Odafe nodded. "My name is Odafe Bankole, Head of Technology and acting Head of Security at Team Danganronpa. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Wow, what luck!" Kokichi said, eyes twinkling. "I'm talking to both the Head of Technology and Security at the same time! Could this day get any better?"

"It might if you play your cards right," the Programmer cleared his throat. "I'm very grateful to you for bringing Ms. Yumeno back safely, but I assure you my Exisals can take it from here. If you would just release her and step inside, I'll personally see to it that she is taken care of, and that you are well rewarded."

"Aw gee, that sounds really nice," Kokichi replied. "Maybe while I'm at it I'll tie a nice noose around my neck and let you hang me from a flag pole. Ha!" he suddenly cackled. "Do you really I’m that easy to fool? I may have been resurrected last night, but I wasn't born yesterday." 

Odafe grimaced. "Then enlighten me. What do you want? Why are you here?"

The Overlord grinned. "Why do you think? I'm here to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"The kind where I get to keep my freedom, and these two get to keep breathing. Sounds reasonable, right?"

Odafe resisted a smile of his own. It was almost too easy. "I see. In that case, let me clear the way so you can come up to my office and discuss your--"

"Dammit Kokichi, what happened to you?" Paris suddenly exclaimed.

"Hey, watch it, Pinkie" the Overlord warned. "What’d I say about talking?"

"You were a hero!" the Hacker shouted, undeterred. "You gave your own life to end the Killing Game. And now you want to work with the people who invented it? That's crazy!" 

Kokichi scoffed. "No, it was crazy to think I'd bet my life again on a hopeless cause. Sorry, been there, done that. 0/10 would not sacrifice again."

"But you hated the Killing Game," Paris countered. "Kaito told everyone the truth. You were only pretending to enjoy it!"

"And you actually believed him?" Kokichi's jaw dropped. "Ahahaha you're so dumb! Haven't you ever heard you can't believe everything you see on T.V.?" His expression became serious. "I just told that idiot what he wanted to hear. Apparently, you fell for it as badly as he did. That's all there is to it. Now shut up and keep walking. Or I'll show you just how evil I can be." 

Paris took a deep breath, but didn't budge. Even in his office, Odafe could feel the air crackling with tension. The situation was growing unstable. All the manipulation and guidance on his part wouldn't mean anything if these moronic children decided to self-destruct. Was it time for him to intervene? He scrolled through security feeds looking for options, but none presented themselves. Kokichi held Himiko close, and her hands were bound by his checkered scarf. No way to create an opening there, and any wrong move would cause a disaster. If only he could--

Paris exhaled. "You're lying. Even if the stories are fake, what they say is true. You're a master of laughable crimes and pranks, not murder. It’s against your nature." She turned to face Kokichi. "That's the truth, isn't it?"

The Overlord's expression remained blank, but a strange shadow moved across his gaze. Was it doubt? "Believe it or not, but dying and coming back to life has a way of changing a person," he stated flatly. "Anyway, it's a theory I don't think you want to test."

"I don't need to," Paris smiled. "You just gave me my answer."

"Wait--"

Before Kokichi could intervene, she was already upon him. Himiko cried in terror, caught in the middle as the two Ultimates struggled viciously for the knife. The blade flashed dangerously in the patio lights. 

"Stop!" Odafe bellowed. "Yumeno, get away from them!" his hands hovered over the Exisal controls, but there was nothing he could do. There was no clear shot--just a mess of limbs and desperation.

And then it happened.

A flash of silver. A splash of crimson.

Paris staggered back from Kokichi, eyes wide with shock. She clutched her throat, uselessly grasping at the life rapidly leaking from the gash in her neck.

"N-no," Himiko squeaked, tears streaming down her face. "It can't be..."

Paris collapsed into the street, the light fading from her pupils. A low gurgle was the last sound the Ultimate Hacker made before she finally fell silent. 

For a moment, Odafe was at a loss. Kokichi seemed just as surprised, but he recovered in an instant, pulling Himiko back into his grasp and placing the freshly stained knife over her jugular.

"Well, I guess that settles that question," the Overlord sighed. "Unless you feel like getting a second opinion, Mr. Head of Security?"

Odafe shook his head and ran a thermal scan on Paris's body. No heat signature to speak of: the Hacker was really dead. With a weary sigh, the Programmer ordered the other Exisal to take the body to the hotel's medical ward for an autopsy. Losing Paris was a shame, but hardly the worst that could've come from that struggle. Odafe could still salvage this. In fact, this new ruthless side of Kokichi may prove useful in the long run. Only one way to find out.

"No need for further violence," the Programmer said, moving aside to allow the Overlord and sobbing Magician through. "Come to the penthouse. We'll discuss your terms."

 


	6. The Ticking Clock / Is It Friendly Fire if We're Not Friends?

"Freeze!"

The command echoed through the parking garage, stopping Chloe in her tracks. She carefully raised her arms, not bothering to turn around. She already knew who that voice belonged to.

"This doesn't concern you, Matsuo," she said calmly. "Tell your squad to stand down, and let me do my job."

The advancing footsteps stopped, though Chloe could still feel the crosshairs trained at her back. "O-our orders are very clear. We can't let you leave c-company grounds, commander. Er, ma'am, er, Ms. Schwarzblum."

Poor Matsuo. The young lieutenant clearly hadn't expected to one day be holding his former boss at gunpoint. As his superior Chloe would have chided him for his hesitance. But as his opponent...she could work with this. "Okay, I'm going to turn around now," she announced, making sure to keep her hands visible as she gradually rotated to face her adversaries.

The movement gave her time to assess the situation: five meters behind her waited her vehicle, a customized company super car that could get her across the city to the Monokuma Hotel in thirty minutes flat. Ten meters in front of her were four members of the Team Danganronpa private security force, compact SMG’s aimed at Chloe as they fanned out to surround her. Though their movements betrayed uncertainty, Chloe noted with a spark of satisfaction that they had at least remembered to set their weapons to “stun shots.” Things would get messy if they hadn't.

Time to test the waters. Chloe took a cautious step back, making a point to meet Matsuo’s eyes. “Something terrible has happened at the hotel, Lieutenant,” she said. “You know I can’t just sit back and do nothing. My honor as a soldier won’t allow it.”

Matsuo flinched, allowing Chloe to reach the line of vehicles before he re-sighted her. “N-not another move!” he barked. She froze, allowing the rest of the squad to tighten the circle around her. They didn’t even realize the game was already up. The dominoes were in place; all they needed was a push.

“I’m sorry,” she said to her former comrades.

The guard to her right tensed. He was the fastest one, and the first to go. Chloe slid past the barrel of his weapon and palm-struck his chin in one fluid movement, grabbing the gun with her other hand and twisting it around his body, pinning his arm with the shoulder strap and bringing him into her grasp at once. Within a second, she now had a firearm and a human shield.

The left-most combatant’s aim wavered in surprise. Chloe quickly sighted her and sent three shock rounds into her chest.  _Whud whud whud._  Blue sparks crackled across the target’s body, causing her to collapse as the electric charge knocked her unconscious.

Return fire zipped by Chloe’s exposed head, one shot skimming her hostage’s shoulders. Chloe felt the sudden spasm in his muscles, followed by the weight pulling on her gun arm down as his body went limp. A glancing hit like that wouldn’t knock him unconscious, but he wouldn’t be able to move for at least twenty seconds. Chloe had to move fast.

With her shield now a hindrance, Chloe threw the hapless grunt forward into the third soldier, tangling him before he could get another burst off. That left Matsuo: he had one clean shot before Chloe was upon him. His aim shook. The shot whizzed harmlessly under her arm. He was hers.

No time for mercy now. Chloe delivered a sharp elbow to his gut, yanked his arm as she kicked out his leg, throwing him off balance and allowing her to pivot his head into the nearby S.U.V. If he and his team had bothered gearing up before chasing her, his helmet would have absorbed the blow. Alas: his skull struck the passenger door with a resounding  _thunk_ , leaving a dent and knocking him out instantly. Chloe snatched his sidearm as he fell, flicked the safety to "stun," and shot the last man standing. Blue electricity coursed across his jaw as he fell. Chloe advanced and put an extra shot in the back of her former-shield’s head for good measure.

Silence. The battle was over. Four unconscious soldiers lay at Chloe’s feet. They would be looking at a hefty demotion and medical treatment when they woke up, but Chloe didn’t have time to feel sorry for them. Instead, she stepped over the bodies as she holstered Matsuo's pistol, her car blinking to life as it detected her entering. She pressed the ignition, the engine awakening with a satisfying roar.

The race was on. She had to get to the Monokuma Hotel before Odafe lost control of the situation completely.

The arrogant Programmer had no idea what he was dealing with.


	7. King's Gambit / The Tangled Webs of the Hopelessly Talented

"Please excuse the mess," Odafe said, standing up from behind his desk. "I haven't had time to tidy up since my predecessor departed."

The greeting was intended sardonically, but the room really was in quite a jumble. Ordinarily, guests would find themselves awash in the blend of elegance and nostalgia, surrounded by luxury accommodations and rare artifacts from Killing Games past. Now the marble statues of Monokuma and Usami were flanked by twin server banks, and thick cables coiled beneath oil paintings of Hope’s Peak highlights. A messy compromise, but one that was essential for the rapid installation of Odafe's MotherSec security system. From his desk, he could monitor and control the entire hotel. And that meant Kokichi was walking right into the belly of the beast.

"Sounds like there's a lotta turnover in your line of work," the Overlord quipped as he ushered Himiko into the penthouse, his eyes briefly flicking to the two Exisals at his back.

"It's a demanding position," Odafe admitted. "But one that is quite efficient at weeding out the weak."

"Meaning everyone besides you, right?" The Overlord returned the condescending grin. "I wonder if the last guy thought the same thing too."

A retort leapt to Odafe's tongue, but he forced it back down. Trading verbal jabs would do him no good; he needed to maintain an air of measured calm and control. "Have a seat, won't you?" he offered, gesturing to the two hand-carved chairs on the other side of his desk.

"Aw man," the Overlord frowned as he sat down, pulling Himiko into the seat beside him. "When I saw your eyepatch, I was hoping you had a hook-hand too. But I guess the get-up isn’t a pirate thing, huh?"

"This is not a fashion accessory," the Programmer sniffed, gesturing to his covered eye. "It is a scar I obtained in the line of duty. I consider it a badge of honor."

"Well without a hook-hand or peg-leg, it just looks like you're half-assing it," Kokichi yawned.

"Maybe you could get a parrot," Himiko offered.

Kokichi brightened. "Yeah! He should get a parrot! That's a great idea Himiko! So great, I won't even stab you for breaking the 'No Talking' rule!"

"Nyeh?" the Magician gasped.

"Enough," Odafe grit his teeth. "I didn't come here to play games, Kokichi. You said you wanted to negotiate, so let’s negotiate."

"Oh c'mon, cut me some slack," Kokichi laughed. "I've been dead almost a year. You can't blame me for wanting to have a little fun, can you? Besides, playing games is kiiiiinnda my thing. You would know that if you did your homework like a good little boy."

Odafe crossed his arms. "So that's what this is to you then? Just another game?"

"Oh the best kind," The Overlord answered, idly turning the knife in his hand. "The kind where everything is at stake, and the winner takes all."

"I see," Odafe's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly does winning mean to you?"

"You mean my demands?" Kokichi smiled. "Well I’m glad you asked!" He suddenly leaped on the desk causing both Exisals to aim their palm cannons at his head. Odafe recoiled in surprise, but Kokichi didn't continue forward to attack. Instead, he paced across the desk like a dictator before his army, gesturing with the knife for emphasis.  "Demand number one!" he announced. "You will rebuild the Ultimate Academy as my own personal headquarters of evil, and install me as its sole ruler."

"Headquarters of evil?" Odafe exclaimed, watching with Kokichi's performance with mounting dread. If he got a centimeter closer, the Exisals would automatically fire and cut the Overlord down where he stood. But whether by luck or design, he always managed to stay just out range of that invisible red line.

"Demand two," Kokichi continued, swishing his cape. "You will rewrite Shuichi and Maki's memories so that they believe they are minions in my organization. Oh, and Himiko too, I guess. She can be our mascot or something."

"Wait, that's not fair!" Himiko exclaimed. "How come I gotta be the stupid mascot? With my magic, I'd be a way better minion than Shuichi or Maki!"

"But mascots should be cute, shouldn't they?" Kokichi cocked his head. "So it'd be the perfect role for you, right?"

"Oh..." Himiko blushed. "I guess that make sense. I am the cutest by far."

"Nah, never mind," Kokichi shook his head. "Nobody likes a conceited mascot."

"Hey!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Odafe hissed, his eyes darting between the two teenagers. "Surely, you can't be serious."

"Sure am, Shirley," Kokichi giggled. "I'm super, duper double-majorly serious."

Odafe stood.  "And suppose I don't give into your demands. What then?"

"Simple," Kokichi hopped off of the desk, landing in Himiko's lap and waving the knife. "I kill Himiko, then myself. And you lose this little kingdom you've tried oh so hard to earn."

"W-wait," Himiko stammered. "Y-you can't kill the m-mascot so easily, right?"

Odafe suppressed an exasperated sigh. Clearly, trying to reason with Kokichi was a waste of time. Not only was the impudent brat unhinged, he was incredibly annoying to boot. "There's no chance Team Danganronpa will agree to such ridiculous demands," the Programmer explained. "Our objective is to salvage as many investments as we can--why on earth would we give away three high-value assets to save the life of one?"

Kokichi blinked, the scope of the situation appearing to dawn on him for the first time. "Ooooohh...you're totally right!" he shouted, smacking himself in the forehead. "I got so caught up in the moment I completely overplayed my hand!" He paused, then met Odafe's glare with a disarming smile. "Well, if the evil headquarters is out...how 'bout a McDonald's gift card?"

That was enough. The Programmer snapped his fingers. With a chirp, the two Exisals shot their tails forward, yanking the Magician and Overlord apart and binding them tightly.

"H-hey!" Kokichi gasped, struggling to speak as the metal cable squeezed tighter. "Wh-who told the metal apes th-they could cut in? Wh-what ever...urk...happened to the p-pirate code of parlay?"

"You really thought you were going to bargain your way out of this?" Odafe sneered. "Perhaps if you begged for your life I would have allowed you work as my servant. But now I see the best you can be is a thorn in my side." Odafe waved to the Exisals. "Take them away."

"W-wait..." Kokichi choked. "Eh...you d-didn't hear me out...I have...m-more to offer."

Odafe raised his hands, halting the Exisals by the door. "Oh?" he raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"I-if you...egh...let me t-take a goddamn b...ugh...breath, I can explain."

Odafe paused. This was probably just another one of Kokichi's lies but...well, there was no harm in letting this play out, since the Programmer held all the cards. "Very well," he said, gesturing for the Exisal to drop its diminutive cargo. Kokichi hit the ground with a thud, and looked up to find the Exisal's palm cannon pointed in his face. "Choose your words carefully," Odafe advised.

The Overlord coughed, rubbing his throat. "As I was saying...Himiko isn't the only chip I have to bet. I also have...information. About Paris."

"The Hacker?" Odafe scoffed. "What good would intel about her be? She's dead."

"But her friends aren't," Kokichi answered, his voiced tinged with joyful malice. "And I know where to find them."

Odafe cocked an eyebrow. Now things were getting interesting.

* * *

 

The moment the T.V. flicked on, Maki's eyes snapped open. She had been dozing at the foot of her bed, her version of getting a good night's sleep after her failed escape attempt. Now her crimson gaze was riveted to the bright screen, staring in disbelief at what she saw.

It was security footage of the penthouse suite. Team Danganronpa's computer guy was seated at his desk with Himiko tied up in an Exisal nearby. And standing in the center of it all was a monster Maki hoped she would never see again.

Somehow, someway, Kokichi was back.

Maki shot to her feet, every muscle in her body tense and ready to pounce. How was this possible? Did Kokichi actually fake his own death back at the Academy? Was he working for Team Danganronpa? Did Kaito...did Kaito die for nothing?

Hot rage poured into Maki's veins, burning through the confusion and fueling the fire in her heart. Whatever the explanation, it was clear Kokichi had brought Himiko back here. And now he was trying to buy favor with the enemy. Which meant there was only one thing for Maki to do.

The Assassin tore her attention from the broadcast and headed for the door, fists flexing at her side, her bloodlust rising. She didn't care if there were Exisals, traps, or the devil himself waiting out there. She was going to claw her way to the penthouse or die trying. And when she did, she would make sure she never had to hear that despicable liar's laugh ever again.

* * *

 

"I'm saying it wasn't just Paris," the Kokichi on the screen explained. "She had a whole team of anti-Danganronpa anarchists helping her every step of the way. I'm talkin' hundreds!"

Shuichi watched the T.V. in silent shock. After Himiko had left, he knew she would likely come back to rescue them. And he had also deduced that she would try and use the Necronomicon to help her on her mission. Yet for her to be tied up before the de facto warden of the hotel, and for Kokichi to be responsible for her recapture...it was almost too much to believe.

No. Shuichi set his book aside. Something else was going on. The fact that this security footage had suddenly appeared on his T.V. meant that someone wanted him to see it. There were two possibilities in that case: either Team Danganronpa was broadcasting it to taunt him...

...Or it was part of someone else’s plan. And there was only one person Shuichi could think of who would launch a scheme this elaborate. It had to be Kokichi’s doing.

It was the only explanation that made sense. If this was a set up by Team Danganronpa, they wouldn't have to rely on ad-hoc streaming from a surveillance camera. Plus, why would they choose this moment to start showing it? As an intimidation tactic, it didn't make sense.

So it was more likely that an accomplice of Kokichi’s had hacked into the system and was trying to tell the prisoners something. And if that were the case, it followed that Maki would be watching this too. Meaning...

A realization shot through Shuichi's mind like a bolt of ice. Dammit. It was just like Kokichi to deploy such a dangerous gambit. The Detective sprinted for the door of his room, hoping his deduction had been quick enough. He needed to get to the penthouse before something awful happened.

* * *

 

Paris watched on the monitor as Shuichi dashed out of his room. Good, it was all going just as Kokichi had predicted. The Hacker had never doubted the adorable Overlord, but for it to be lining up so perfectly...she couldn't help but grin.

It was an ingenious scheme: thanks to Himiko's sleight-of-hand abilities and a fake blood capsule hidden in the scarf binding her arms, the three Ultimates had managed to fake Paris's death with gorgeous perfection. The signal jammer she had bound to her torso had done the rest, ensuring that the Exisals’ thermal scan would draw a blank. Of course, bodies don't actually lose all their heat upon death, but the Supreme Leader had bet Odafe would have neither the experience nor presence of mind to realize that in the moment. So instead of being taken in as a prisoner, Paris was dumped into the hotel infirmary as a corpse. Now Odafe's many eyes were elsewhere, and she was free to do as she pleased.

Well, more or less. Paris cast another cursory look over her shoulder to make sure nobody had wandered in the dimly lit operating theater. Most surgeries were automated nowadays, and Odafe had fired most of the staff, so the odds of her being discovered were slim. To the Hacker's relief, that held true: nothing behind her but the empty gurney and shelves of medical supplies.

She turned back to the room’s computer terminal, making sure the programs she had smuggled in on her data card were running as intended. Odafe had beefed up network security since the run that sprang Himiko, which is why Paris needed a machine on the inside this time. Even now, the Programmer's ICE was slowly coming for Paris's operations, like a pack of white blood cells closing in on a virus. As much as she longed to watch the furious hearts clash in the penthouse above, she had to do her job and keep moving.

With a wistful sigh, Paris blew a kiss to her fellow warriors and executed one final routine, commanding the system to fry its own circuits in 60 seconds.

She had halted the Ultimate Programmer’s machinations. Now it was time for Kokichi and Himiko to burn them down.

* * *

 

"D'ya get it now?" Kokichi asked. "Get rid of me and you'll never find out where Paris's hidden army lives. And let me tell you, from one Master of Evil to another, these are not people you want after you."

Odafe shook his head. What a disappointment the Supreme Ruler had turned out to be. "Again, Kokichi, you are woefully mistaken. Even if you really have information on this supposed insurgency—and I doubt very much you do--there's no need for me to bargain with you. I'll simply capture you now, then extract the data one way or another. After all, we’ll have all the time in the world,” he added with a cruel smirk, "And Team Danganronpa has rather perfected the art of getting what it wants."

Kokichi's cocky expression faded. For the first time since he had arrived at the hotel, he was speechless. He stared at the floor, his gaze clouded, his lips quivering slightly in defeat.

The Programmer laughed. "What's the matter? No clever comeback? No more lies to delay the inevitable? Ah, well. At least you've provided me a little entertainment." He flicked his wrist at the nearby Exisal. "Take him away," he commanded.

Nothing happened.

The Exisals didn't move.

Odafe hesitated, then repeated the gesture. "I said 'take him away!" Still no response. He huffed, frustration turning to desperation. "Access command! Launch routine 578111-D, authorization N60236!" The Exisal seemed to recognize this command, only to then groan and lower its arms in submission. Its partner did the same, allowing Himiko to easily slide free from its grasp.

"Ta-daaa!" She proclaimed. "Fall to your knees before the Amazing Himiko's Anti-Robot Escape Magic!"

Odafe staggered back. "H-how did you..?" he stammered. This was a nightmare. Why weren't the Exisal's responding? It was inconceivable to think that any of the 53rd class had managed to hack them. So then...how?

"Neeheehee," Kokichi giggled, the helplessness in his eyes melting into wicked glee. "Ahahahahahaha! You actually fell for it!" he cackled, doffing his cap with an exaggerated flourish.

Odafe paled. Beneath the Overlord’s hat rested a tiny pink grenade, a digital timer on its side counting down to zero. An Electro Bomb. And one with only three seconds left until detonation. 2...1…

“Idiot!” The Supreme Leader jeered. “It was all a lie!”

0.


	8. Friend and Foe / If Three's a Crowd, Four's a Fire Hazard

With a jaunty bow, Kokichi ejected the electro bomb from his head and covered his face with his cap. Himiko remembered Paris' warning in the nick of time, and shut her eyes tight as the pink grenade detonated with a loud  _thoom_. The explosion was harmless, but blindingly bright; even though the Magician had been prepared, she still had to blink a few times to clear the spots from her vision. 

Odafe was faring much worse. The Programmer staggered back in a disoriented stupor, his one good eye unfocused and rapidly blinking. He stumbled back behind his desk, tripping over his own feet in the process as his arms flailed for support. It was just like if Himiko had hit him with her "You Will Get Uncharacteristically Drunk After One Beer" curse. Well, except he hadn't drunk anything. Whatever.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Kokichi taunted. "The Ultimate Programmer and his perfect system, down for the count in one swift blow. It's the upset no one saw coming!"

"Yeah," Himiko nodded. "Serves him right for acting all cocky and stuff." 

"Himiko, there's no time for gloating!" the Overlord snapped. "Remember? The next part of the plan!"

"Nyeh? But you were--"

"Pretty pleeeeaaaasee?" Kokichi pleaded, his impatience morphing into an innocent smile. "You know how much this means to me, right?"

"Alright, I'm going already. Geeze." With a sigh of resignation, Himiko nimbly untied the scarf binding her wrists, pulling the fabric taut as she approached the floundering Programer. Now that the electro bomb had knocked out his machines, it was Himiko's job to tie him up and make sure he didn't try anything funny. Fortunately, her enchanted Silk Prison Knot would be just the thing to keep him in line.

Although now that she was closer, Odafe's movements didn't seem so random anymore. In fact, it looked like he was searching his desk for something. But what could...

Uh oh.

Himiko ducked away as the stun shot rocketed past her head. The bullet tore a hole in the tip of her hat, knocking it loose in a burst of blue lightening as she scrambled behind a server tower for cover.

Odafe spun his aim toward Kokichi. The Overlord yelped in surprise as the engraved pistol fired. He dove behind the Monokuma statue, barely avoiding the two shots that thumped into the wall behind him.

"Hey, no fair!" he shouted. "You can't bring a gun to a battle of wits, it's cheating!"

"Silence!" Odafe hissed. "Nobody makes a mockery of the Bankole family. Nobody!"

Himiko hazarded a glance around the metal frame, only to immediately pull back as Odafe sent another volley her way. The server tower burst in a shower of sparks and smoke, causing the tiny Magician to flinch and cover her head.

"Aaarrrggh!" The enraged Programmer fumed, stalking towards her position.

"Uh, Himiko?" Kokichi called from around his statue. "Don't you have an ice spear or fire bolt to put this guy outta commission? Heck I'd even settle for an indigestion curse at this point."

"I-I can't!" she stammered. "M-my hat gives me plus two to MP regeneration. Without it, I..."

A stun round clipped the edge her cover, cutting off the rest of her excuse. This was bad. Odafe had her pinned, and was drawing closer with every second. It would only be a matter of time before she ran out of space. But she had to hold out as long as possible, until...

"Heads up, Cap'n!" Kokichi shouted.

Himiko peeked out of cover in time to see Kokichi charge into the open, throwing his cape over Odafe. The Programmer was tangled for only a moment, but it was enough for Kokichi to lower his shoulder and tackle his target against the nearby bookshelf.

But it was no use. Odafe may have been slight, but even he far outweighed his teenage assailant. The Programmer absorbed the brunt of the Kokichi's assault, grasping him by the collar and swinging him around. The Overlord hit the neighboring wall hard before dropping to the floor, dazed. 

"No!" Himiko shouted, breaking from cover. Odafe threw the cape away and aimed the handgun at the Supreme Leader's temple.

"No more second chances," the Programmer grimaced, his thumb flicking the safety to "lethal." Himiko gasped, freezing in her tracks as a loud  _bang_  shook the floor.

But the sound hadn't come from the gun--it had erupted from the Penthouse entrance. 

The Magician and Programmer turned in unison, both shocked to see a crimson-clad figure standing in the open doorway. Odafe hesitated, his aim wavering. Beneath him, Kokichi grinned.

"Too late now," he said.

"Maki! You're here!" Himiko cried with relief. Odafe quickly redirected his aim toward the Assassin, but she was already on the move. She glided towards Odafe with inhuman grace, slipping from cover to cover as the Programmer's panicked shots ricocheted around her. Splinters and furniture stuffing flew; still the blood red shadow advanced. 

Then, through the haze of gun-smoke, she appeared before him. Faster than Himiko could track, Maki's hand slashed towards Odafe's throat, cutting off his breath with one brutal chop. As the Programmer recoiled, her other hand clamped around the wrist of his gun-hand, swinging him over her shoulder and twisting the weapon free. She press-checked the chamber as Odafe reeled in pain. Seeing the gun was empty, Maki frowned and cracked the handle across The Programmer's temple, dropping him instantly. He collapsed like a marionette without strings. 

Himiko blinked, trying to process everything that had just happened. "W-wow..." she finally said. "That was amazing! You Maki Rock, Maki Roll!"

Kokichi coughed, wobbling to his feet. "Man, you haven't slowed down one bit. I guess killing people is like riding a bike, huh Maki R-hurghk!"

Before the name finished leaving his lips, Maki gripped the Overlord's neck with one hand and pinned him against the wall. "Shut up," she said. "What the hell do you think you're doing here? Do you want to die?"

"W-wait, Maki!" Himiko ran to the Assassin's side. "What you saw was a lie! Kokichi didn't actually kidnap me, I brought him here to rescue you and--" 

Maki silenced the Magician with a swift glare. "You brought him here? After everything he put us through?"

Himiko swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Well...yeah, but..."

"What I put you through?" Kokichi echoed, struggling feebly in Maki's grasp. "Are you really so dense? I was trying to save you back then, and I'm trying to save you now!"

"Bullshit," the Assassin spat. "We went through hell thanks to you and your stupid plans. All you did was make things worse."

"It wasn't all his fault," Himiko protested. "I...I know what he did was messed up, and I hated it to. But he didn't make the Killing Game! Team Danganronpa did!"

"Y-yeah," Kokichi jerked his head in a nod. "Besides, technically my plan was working. You were the one who messed it up going all Rambo on Kaito and m--"

"Don't you dare say his name!" Maki roared. "He didn't deserve what you did to him. None of us did!"

"D-deserve? What does..."

Maki doubled her grip, strangling the Overlord's retort. "That's enough. I'm done trying to understand you or your motives. This ends now."

Himiko balled her fists and stomped. "What is wrong with you guys?" she shouted. "Both of you are being stupid jerks! You should be fighting Danganronpa, not each other!"

"Don't...worry, Himiko," Kokichi's lips quirked into a twisted grin. "I...c-can't die.  _He_  w-won't let me..."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "What did you--"

"Maki, don't!" a voice called from the Penthouse doors. 


	9. Full House / The Dream Team Finally Assembled?

Shuichi flung open the door to the Penthouse, his legs still burning from the climb up the stairs. He shouted to the amassed Ultimates, using the last of the air left in his lungs. "Maki, no!"

The girl called Paris staggered past him, her legs giving out as she flung herself across the carpet. "Don't do it, Maki Roll! Stop in the name of love!"

It was an awkward entrance, but one that had the intended effect: Maki's attention snapped away from her aloft victim, the hatred in her eyes briefly clouded by confusion. "Shuichi?" she blinked. "How did you...who is that woman?"

"Uh..." Shuichi glanced at the exhausted Hacker at his feet. Truth be told, he didn't have a good answer. The pink-haired interloper had introduced herself as Paris when they had met in the hallway, but as to who she really was or where she came from, the Detective couldn't say. He guessed she was the one beaming security footage into the hotel rooms, but his evidence for that was purely circumstantial. Regardless, she didn't seem dangerous. Or malicious. In fact, she didn't really seem "all there."

"Paris is the name," she cheerily announced, despite trying and failing to stand. "And (ow!) let me just say I am, like, your  _biggest_  fan." 

Maki blinked. "My what?"

"Your biggest fan!" Paris nodded vigorously. "Like, the way you put aside your dark past and risked it all for love was just...ah! It was the best!” She suddenly swerved her attention to Shuichi, causing him to flinch. "Of course, you’re a close second in my tier list, Shuichi. You and Kaede are what got me totally hooked on season 53, after all.”

"I see," Maki glowered. "So you're a Danganronpa fan, huh?"

"I know, I know, totally hypocritical of me, right?" Paris bonked her fist against her head. "But I can't help it. I'm, like, a total sucker for that kind of stuff." 

"She's an Ultimate like us, Maki," Shuichi interceded, before the conversation got even more off track. "All she wants to do is help." Or at least, that's what the Detective assumed. He could verify his unlikely companion's backstory later; what mattered now was defusing the situation before Maki and Kokichi self-destructed. 

"That's right," Himiko chimed in. "She's the one who helped me escape. She hacked my room and told me how to get out."

Maki paused over this, then turned her piercing gaze back to the still-struggling Kokichi. "Was she also the one told you to team up with this insect?"

Himiko hesitated. "E-er...well, I mean, she didn't  _tell_  me to. It was more like...an agreement?"

"A-and a g-good thing too!" Kokichi piped up. "O-otherwise we wouldn't be h-having this h-happy little reunion. R-right Shui-HURGHK."

"Did I say you could talk again?" Maki growled.

"Maki, please," Shuichi pleaded, cautiously advancing. "Let him go." The Detective tried to keep his voice level, even as his heart hammered inside his chest. Dammit, Kokichi. It was bad enough that his plan involved so much deception and risk. But to still be cracking wise even when his life hinged on the mercy of the world's deadliest assassin...he couldn't be more infuriating if he tried. Well, then again...

Maki's eyes narrowed. "Why should I?" she demanded. 

Kokichi let out a strangled giggle. "U-uh, maybe 'cause I'm your o-only hope of escaping? Unless you h-have any brilliant i-ideas besides st-strangling me."

Shuichi grit his teeth. "Kokichi shut up," he said. "I'm trying to help you here."

"Que? M-moi?" Kokichi's jaw dropped. "Why Shuichi, are y-you w-worried about mmPH."

Maki slammed the Overlord's face into the rug, smothering his coy grin. "That's enough out of you," she said.

Paris sighed. "Hate to say it Kokichi, but you kinda deserved that. You really don't know when to quit.”

Himiko groaned. “You think he would’ve learned his lesson by now. Isn’t this, like the third or fourth time this has happened?”

Shuichi suppressed a sigh of relief. Gagging Kokichi with a choke-slam wasn't exactly the level of de-escalation the Detective was looking for, but it showed Maki was open to listening. He could get through to her. He had done it before, and he could do it again.

"Look, I agree Kokichi has a lot to answer for," he began, making sure to maintain eye contact. "And I'm not about to let him off the hook just because he's decided to help us. His crimes will be accounted for. But now is not the time."

Maki opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated. Shuichi could almost see the calculations racing behind her eyes. Even when her mind was fogged with rage, the Assassin was no fool: she had to know how much was at stake, and how tenuous their position was. The 53rd class may be in control of the situation for the moment, but they were still deep within enemy territory, and the window to escape was growing narrower every second. Maki distrusted Kokichi, but she trusted her friends more. And because of that, Shuichi knew he could trust her to see the truth.

"You'll have another chance to settle things," the Detective continued. "But we may never get another shot at freedom. So please, just let Kokichi go. For now."

The Assassin sighed. "Words never fail you, huh, Shuichi?" She looked away. "Let's hope the same goes for your promises." With that, she loosened her grip and stepped back, freeing Kokichi from her grasp. He twisted himself around and gasped for air, as the rest of his classmates breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Sooooo we're all good now, right?" Paris looked at the others expectantly. "Best friends forever? Maybe more, with time?"

"Yep!" Kokichi beamed, rising to his feet. "Like I always say, never doubt the power of friendship!"

"Nyeh, you’ve never said that," Himiko mumbled. 

"But wow, Shuichi," the Overlord continued, his eyes sparkling. "I'm super impressed. You barged right in here and talked Maki down without batting an eye. So that must mean you figured out my plan ahead of time, right?"

“More or less,” Shuichi admitted. It wasn’t too hard to decipher: this sort of cheap manipulation was textbook Kokichi. If he had just tried to contact Shuichi during the infiltration, the Detective would’ve most likely hesitated, preferring to assess the situation before getting involved. But by pulling Maki into the mix, and making sure Shuichi knew about it, Kokichi guaranteed the action would move at the pace he dictated. An effective gambit, though one that the Detective couldn’t help resenting. 

“I knew I could rely on you,” Kokichi beamed. “Never once have I doubted your deductive abilities.”

“Um,” Paris put a finger to her lips. “That’s not totally true though, right? I mean, your ‘unsolvable mystery’ plan last season depended on him failing, right?”

“Paris, how could you!” Kokichi’s cheeks flashed crimson. “I told you to never, ever embarrass me in front of Shuichi!” 

“You’re whole existence is an embarrassment,” Maki muttered. 

Shuichi rubbed his temple. “In any case, while your plan to unite us is obvious, I’m a little unclear on your exit strategy. Even if you’ve cut communications from this hotel to the outside world, the building is still surrounded by protestors and police. None of them may know exactly what’s going on inside here, but they’re sure to be on the lookout for people leaving the hotel. So how do you propose we get around that to safety?”

Kokichi giggled. “It’s simple,” he said, his eyes flicking to unconscious Programmer nearby. “We walk out.”


	10. Crowd Control / The Great Himiko's Dazzling Escape

Maki was the first to step out of the hotel doors, her arm wrapped tightly around Odafe’s torso. In her other hand she leveled the Programmer’s pistol, reloaded and ready to rip open his neck the moment he or anyone else made a sudden movement. Fortunately, her hostage seemed too groggy and terrified to attempt any heroics: he whimpered as she shoved him down the rain-slicked steps, too terrified to even meet her eyes.

“Remember,” Kokichi muttered as the other Ultimate’s joined her in a tight formation. “Don’t let them get a clear shot on Maki. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to her.”

Maki grit her teeth, but resisted the urge to rise to Kokichi’s bait. It wasn’t worth it—not when freedom was so tantalizingly close.

And yet, as the front gates opened, a needle of doubt pricked the edges of Maki’s resolve. Whatever Paris, Kokichi, and Himiko had done to get into the hotel, it had drawn a lot of attention; the crowds waiting in the streets had somehow doubled in hours, becoming a sea that stretched far into the distance. A line of armor-clad riot cops stood like a dam in front of the roiling mob, their parked cars and armored vans forming an impromptu blockade.

A searchlight swept the escaping Ultimates, causing Maki’s body to tense. This was an assassin’s worse nightmare: outnumbered, outgunned, and utterly exposed, lit from all sides by the garish light of flashing sirens and babbling holo-ads. Still, she kept her breathing steady, and her paces measured. As much as it pained her to admit it, the only way forward was to follow Kokichi’s plan. For once, she hoped the Overlord was as clever as he claimed to be.

Fortunately, events were already playing out according to his predictions. As Maki stepped further into the light, gasps of recognition raced through the assembled crowd. Suddenly, a cheer erupted from the front line, its exuberance and elation crashing through the rest of the masses like a tidal wave. All at once, the cries of surprise and excitement rang out:

“It’s the Ultimates! They’re coming this way!”

“Oh my god, they’re all here! Shuichi, Maki and Himiko too!”

“Is that Kokichi? He’s really back?”

“Shuichi, marry me!”

“I love you, Maki Roll!”

“Himiko, cast a spell on me, please!”

Maki bristled. The air was crackling with energy now, too much to be contained or easily dispersed. It was like staring into a brewing storm, flickers of electricity threatening to strike the earth at any moment.

The assembled police seemed to share her instinct for danger. They glanced nervously at one another as the Ultimates approached, caught between competing impulses and protocols. Even with their faces obscured, Maki could tell the cops weren’t expecting to be caught in between a hostage crisis and a brewing riot. One wrong move on their part, and all hell would break loose. No wonder they were so hesitant to react.

With less than a hundred meters to go, Paris took her cue. She stepped into the front of the formation, pumping her fist in the air. “Free the 53rd!” she shouted. “Free the 53rd!”

The front line of protestors followed her lead, their clenched hands erupting towards the heavens in a furious sign of support. “Free the 53rd!” they repeated, the call rippling from one end of the street to the other.

“Let them go!” Paris chanted. “Let them go! Let them go!”

“Let them go!” a chorus of voices shouted back. “Let them go! Let them go!” With each repetition, the chant crew in volume and fervor, echoing through the avenues and alleyways until it formed an almost unrecognizable cacophony. One of the police officers bellowed into a bullhorn for calm, but Maki couldn’t even make out his words over the feverish din.

It was working. Just as Kokichi had said it would.

The police line was now right in front of the 53rd class. Maki could feel the uncertainty and fear pulsing in their ranks. The threat of a full-scale breakdown was keeping them in check, but there was still a chance a renegade officer would try to take matters into his own hands. Maki kept her head on a swivel as she stepped past the first cruiser, waiting as the rest of her friends followed suit.

“Nyeh, I’m scared,” Himiko whispered.

“It’ll be okay,” Kokichi said. “If you hold your breath, cops can’t touch you.”

“I think that only works for ghosts,” Paris pointed out.

“There are ghosts here?” Kokichi gasped. “Where?”

“That’s enough, Kokichi,” Shuichi muttered. “You’re not helping.”

There was movement in the corner of Maki’s vision. She turned to see the riot cop closest to her shift in place, appearing to square up with her position. She pressed the gun barrel harder into Odafe’s neck, shooting an icy glare at the threatening officer. “Do you want to die?” she asked. “Don’t even think about taking another step.”

Her opponent stiffened, then relented, his shoulders slumping. Maki recognized the gesture of resignation, as did the cop’s companions. Nobody else made a move as the Ultimates cleared the blockade.

“Good job, Maki,” Paris said under her breath. “Only you would be able to stop a riot squad with a single look.”

“See what I mean?” Kokichi smiled. “Maki and I may not get along, but I know she’s the best at what she does. And what she does is freak people out.”

“Whereas you just—ah!” Maki’s breath caught midway through her retort. A woman with blonde hair, a pink sweater, and a skirt printed with music notes had just appeared out of the crowd in front of them. If Maki didn’t know any better, she would’ve said it was…

“Kaede!” Shuichi gasped. He then quickly covered his mouth, mortified by his outburst.

The woman, however, was elated. “He thought I was Kaede!” she boasted to the surrounding people. “Did you hear that? He called me Kaede!”

“Don’t listen to her, Shuichi!” another woman exclaimed, dressed in an identical outfit. “I’m the only Kaede you’ll ever need!”

“Both of you stay back!” Kokichi shouted angrily. “You’re distracting my detective!”

Maki hazarded a look back at Shuichi. His expression was still rattled, but his voice was steady. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “I just didn’t expect them to look so…”

Maki nodded. Cosplayers were to be expected in a crowd like this, but even she was taken aback by how realistic the costumes looked. It was more than a little unnerving, but the Assassin couldn’t complain: her escape depended on the imitators being as believable as possible. With so many people dressed as their favorite Danganronpa characters, picking out the real Ultimates at a glance would be nearly impossible, even for the surveillance drones hovering above.

“This is weird…” Himiko muttered, averting her eyes from a curious Korekiyo in the crowd. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Paris nodded. “Don’t these people have any respect?”

“Yeah, they should just stick to fantasizing about our love life,” Kokichi quipped as he brushed passed a blushing doppelganger of himself.  “That’s so much more healthy.”

Paris grinned. “It’s only fantasy ‘til it ain’t.”

“Hey…” Himiko’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

While her colleagues tried to distract themselves with banter, Maki kept track of the distance they covered. The next phase of the plan would start soon, and it required precise timing and coordination. Her rhythm was briefly thrown off by the flash of a purple jacket, but she managed to remain focused on the mission. The lives of her friends depended on it.

“Himiko,” the Assassin said as they reached the estimated center of the crowd. “You’re up.”

Himiko stopped walking, her legs quivering as she cleared her throat. “L...Ladies and g-gentlemen…” she mumbled, barely audible over the swarming fans.

“Uh oh,” Kokichi sighed. “Looks like she’s not up to it after all. Good thing we have so many replacement Himiko’s close by.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Himiko bellowed, jolting the surrounding spectators to attention. “Tonight, the great Himiko will perform her most daring vanishing act yet! But first, I need volunteers from the audience.”

Instantly the Ultimates were surrounded by eager recruits, each one begging for her favor.

“I’ll do it!”

“Me, pick me!”

“I’ll be the best volunteer ever, Himiko! Nyeh!”

Himiko threw her hat up in the air like a signal flare, then caught it with a dramatic sweep of her arm. “Follow me!” she called.

With that, Himiko lead a mass march down an adjacent avenue, the size of the movement itself drawing additional bystanders along, forming a chain of newly minted magician’s assistants. Maki kept scanning the cheering faces as she followed close behind, making sure no police officers or Danganronpa employees infiltrated the mob.

Odafe coughed. “Is-isn’t this far enough?” he said, having apparently found enough courage to speak. “You’ve passed through the police, a-and your escape is within reach. I-If you let me go now, I-I’ll tell them I haven’t the foggiest idea where you went. Th-that the concussion prevented me from remembering anything! Yes, that’s what I’ll say, I swear on my family name.”

“Shut it,” Maki growled. “We’re not done with you.”

Odafe quivered. “Wh-what do you have to gain by b-bringing me along? Y-you’re o-only going to m-make my employer a-angrier!”

“You say that like I should care,” Maki said, her voice dangerously low. “But all I care about is getting you somewhere we can have a nice, long chat together. So save your breath—you’re going to need it.”

Odafe swallowed and said nothing more.

Maki noticed that Himiko and her new disciples were slowing. The Assassin looked up to see that they had arrived at their destination: a suite of multi-level parking garages arrayed end to end, each branded after a different Danganronpa character. Under normal circumstances, the lots were probably filled with tourist convoys and family mini-vans. Now they were packed to the gills with the vehicles of protestors, press, and anyone else drawn to the chaos at Hotel Danganronpa. Which made them a perfect smokescreen waiting to happen.

Security alarms blared as Himiko lead everyone into the Gundham garage, forcing her to shout to be heard. “Okay everyone! Now you need to get into your cars and drive out of here. The great Himiko and her Ultimate assistants will choose one lucky driver to be their ride out!”

The crowd quickly dispersed, each driver hoping to be the one to ferry the 53rd class to freedom. Of course, none of them would get the chance. Because…

“Nee-hee hee. Look at you go, Himiko,” Kokichi giggled. “You’re almost as good of a liar as I am!”

“Nyeh, don’t compare yourself to me,” Himiko frowned. “The lies of a magician and the lies of a person like you are totally different.”

“I want to believe you, but how can I?” Kokichi tilted his head. “You’ve just proven yourself to be a liar!”

“Hey!”

“Focus,” Maki cut in, stepping out of the way of an exiting sedan. “The clock is ticking.”

“Alright,” Shuichi said. “Let’s split up on three. One…”

“Three!” Kokichi exclaimed, shooting off in the opposite direction.

“That damn idiot,” Maki sighed, breaking away from the formation as well. Maybe if she was lucky, the Overlord would disappear for good. Though she doubted he would pass up the chance to gloat over a successful plan.

Maki shifted her grip on Odafe, shoving the gun under the back of his jacket, allowing him to walk relatively unencumbered. Now if she was careful, the two of them would appear like a cosplayer and a civilian walking through the swarming, chaotic mess of cars and hopeful fans. The other members of the 53rd class pulled a similar vanishing act, fanning out in random directions. With some luck, not even the people Himiko recruited as volunteers would be able to track where all the Ultimates went.

“Keep moving,” Maki ordered Odafe. “If you even look at anyone funny, it will be the last thing you do. Understand?” The hitch she felt in his breath indicated he did.

After weaving through the mass of honking horns and shouting drivers for some time, Maki pivoted and pushed her hostage onward toward their actual destination: an inconspicuous emergency exit in the lower section of the garage. She cast one last glance over her shoulder, then grabbed Odafe by the scruff of his neck and pulled him outside.

“Run,” she commanded, keeping one hand on his neck and the other on her gun. The two sprinted down a darkened network of alleyways, the most exposed they had been so far. If any cops found them now, they could easily have the Assassin cornered. Every brief flash of the spotlight or distant sound of footsteps shot a bolt of adrenaline through her muscles, her gun hand instantly snapping in the direction of the disturbance. But the way remained clear, her enemies no doubt too focused on the fleeing vehicles to scan the shadows. 

As Maki approached the end of the last alleyway, a jet-black van screeched to a stop front of her. The Assassin stopped, drawing her aim on the vehicle, ready for an adversary to appear in the passenger window at any moment. Instead, the side paneling slid open, revealing a relieved Shuichi inside.

“You made it,” he exhaled. “I was worried for a second.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Maki chided him, shoving herself and Odafe into the cramped interior. “Of course I made it.”  Kokichi, and Himiko were there too, crammed together among all the wires and crooked monitors. Maki could feel the Overlord watching curiously as she took her seat and positioned Odafe in a corner, binding his arms with a spare extension cord.

“Honestly, I’m more surprised the computer guy made it too,” Kokichi said. “I thought for sure Maki would plug him the moment we split up.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have left me with him,” Maki retorted. “If you’re gonna lie, at least put some effort into sounding convincing.”

“Ah well,” the Overlord smiled. “They can’t all be gems.”

Paris piped up from the driver’s seat. “Alright kids, last call for a bathroom break.”

Himiko raised her hand. “Nyeh, actually, I have to—“

“Just kidding!” Paris laughed, the van’s tires squealing as she slammed on the gas. “This is the non-stop express to freedom. Next destination: your new home!”


	11. The Deadlocked District / A Great Escape or Grave Error?

__

Shuichi drummed his fingers against the armrest of the passenger seat. He stared intently out the window, his eyes darting between each streak of headlights that passed. Paris had managed to get the Detective and his friends out of the Danganronpa District and onto the freeway without incident, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Not yet. There was a faint buzzing in the back of Shuichi’s head, the same instinctual alarm that went off whenever he had overlooked a vital clue or left a loose end in a case. But try as he might, he couldn’t trace the feeling to its origin. As much as he hated to admit it, Kokichi’s plan had worked out pretty much as the Overlord had predicted. And now that Paris was at the wheel and the signal jammer was back on the dashboard, it was unlikely the van was being followed.

So why did Shuichi still expect to see helicopters descending over each passing streetlight? Why did that super sports car changing lanes behind them look so familiar? He couldn’t discount the possibility that he was being paranoid; it would be an understandable defense mechanism, given what the Detective had already been through. There weren’t many people left in the world that he could trust, and now even his memories warranted constant scrutiny. Such uncertainty forced Shuichi into a precarious position: being constantly on-guard had its advantages, but if he wasn’t careful, his latent skepticism could easily morph into cynicism. Or worse. Shuichi shot a glance over his shoulder, but looked away the moment Kokichi’s eyes met his.

“Something up?” Paris asked.

“Just thinking,” the Detective sighed. His gaze fell to the hacker’s tablet resting between them, currently folded up to be no larger than a deck of cards. “Do you think I could borrow your…what did you call it?”

“My KeroPad?” she answered. “Yeah, just gimme a sec.” Without looking away from the road, she deftly plucked the device from its resting place, flicked it open to tablet size, and keyed in her password before handing it to Shuichi. “Just uh, don’t go into ‘artwork’ folder. For everyone’s sake,” she added with a sheepish grin.

Shuichi decided not to think about that too much, and instead turned his attention to opening as many news tabs as possible. His fingers danced across the screen as he flicked between them, trying to glean as much information as possible. Unsurprisingly, the media was in chaos. Rumors and “breaking reports” swarmed the airwaves, but little of the information seemed substantiated. All the better, the Detective supposed. The more noise was clouding the networks, the harder it would be for the authorities to uncover the truth.

The video feeds were of particular interest. Many of them tracked the 53rd class as they entered the crowd, and a couple networks managed to follow their general direction through the chaos. That changed during the parking garage phase of the escape: no matter where the cameras looked, all they found were cops stopping vehicles and dragging out the cosplayers and protesters inside. A few drivers attempted to dodge the police blockade, many of them crashing and creating even further mayhem and confusion. Shuichi hoped nobody was seriously hurt.

A blurb in one of the news stories caught his eye. While most of the background writing centered on the 53rd class, this article actually had a section devoted to Paris as well. There wasn’t much there that Shuichi didn’t know: the hacker was apparently a fan favorite going into the 50th season of Danganronpa, only to mysteriously disappear before the show had wrapped. Curious, Shuichi clicked on an embedded link to learn more.

What he saw made his blood freeze.

Kokichi shoved his head between the two front seats. “Paris, did you show Shuichi your fan art? He looks white as a sheet!”

“Huh?” Paris glanced at Shuichi, surprised. “No! I told him _not_ to go into that folder.”

“Well he definitely saw _something_ ,” the Overlord said, his expression the picture of innocent curiosity.

“I-it’s nothing,” Shuichi said, quickly closing the Tarot. “Just worried that one of the news cameras followed us.” What he had read about Paris was troubling, but there was no sense in bringing it up now. Doing so would make an already tenuous situation untenable. Whatever the hacker had done in a previous killing game, the detective trusted her to at least get them out of Team Danganronpa’s reach.

Paris shrugged and turned back to the road. But Kokichi’s attention stayed on Shuichi. Did the Supreme Leader know? Had he detected Shuichi’s lie?

“Pffft,” the impish Overlord scoffed. “Of _course_ the news cameras didn’t follow us, stupid! My plan was foolproof! Even you have to admit, I really outdid myself this time.”

“It was reckless,” Shuichi answered, grateful for the change in subject. “And took advantage of a lot of people. Including us.”

Kokichi recoiled. “Oh no…you’re right. How could I be so thoughtless?” His lip quivered. “I put everyone in danger, deceived all those people, and for what? Oh, if only I could take it back! If only you all were still living an honorable life in prison instead of associating with filth like me!”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“How could you be so cruel?” Kokichi sobbed, undeterred. “All I wanted to do was make you happy! But not even saving your life is good enough. Damn you, Shuichi! Why must you toy with my heart so?”

Paris frowned, sympathetic. “It’s okay Kokichi. I’m sure Shuichi’s just stressed, you know?”

 “I know he’s lying,” Himiko muttered from the back of the van. “But I actually kind of feel bad for him.”

“I don’t,” Maki stated flatly.

Kokichi sniffled. “I don’t know what more you want from me, Shuichi. Sure I had to play dirty, but we still won, didn’t we?”

“For now…” Shuichi answered.

Kokichi’s face went blank. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Shuichi admitted. “I just feel like we’re missing something.” He had been distracted by Paris’s history, but the uneasy feeling tugging at his thoughts still hadn’t subsided.

Paris tilted her head. “Well if Team Danganronpa was gonna try anything, they’d have to try it soon.” She pointed out the window. “We’re here.”

Shuichi followed Paris’ finger and felt his breath catch. A massive wall jutted out of the metropolis ahead, its sheer concrete surface stretching high into the sky above. The barrier stood for miles in either direction, before breaking at a sharp 90-degree angle, effectively locking an entire section of the city away. Clearly, whatever was inside wasn’t supposed to get out.

“What…is that?” Shuichi whispered.

“The blast wall,” Paris answered. “They built it near the end of the Burning Age. To protect the rest of the city.”

“From what?”

“You’ll see.” Paris said, taking a fork in the overpass that lead straight towards the deadlocked district. The traffic thinned and then disappeared completely, the mile markers becoming warning signs ordering drivers to turn back.  Discarded police tape and flattened traffic cones littered the side of the road, illuminated only by the van’s headlights at they passed rows of cracked streetlights.

“Uh, Paris?” Kokichi said. “You do realize you’re driving us headlong into concrete, right?”

“Nyeh?” Himiko exclaimed, rushing to look out a window. “What did you say?”

“Relax,” the Hacker waved them off. “I swiped the access code years ago.”

Shuichi instinctively grabbed his seat’s armrests as the van shot forward. For a split second, he was actually convinced their escape was about to end in a fiery crash. But as the headlights blossomed against the approaching fortification, a section of the walls parted to reveal a hidden tunnel. The vehicle continued unimpeded, emergency lights on the walls flickering as it passed, revealing a passageway thick with dust and soot. How Paris was able to navigate the road was a mystery to Shuichi, but before he could parse it, the corridor suddenly opened.

Shuichi blinked as moonlight flooded his vision again, illuminating a desolate commercial district. Skyscrapers stood on either side of the overpass, their windows cracked and dusty. A few of the smaller buildings were slumping under the weight of time, their billboards and advertisements faded and illegible. Loose papers and trash blew in the breeze, the only motion in a neighborhood that otherwise seemed frozen in time.

The Detective squinted, puzzled. The emptiness was unnerving, sure, but no reason to wall off an entire section of Tokyo. Was there something he was missing?

He got his answer soon enough. As Paris exited the freeway and approached ground level, Shuichi realized there were rusted metal tubes scattered all over area, many of them embedded in concrete as though they had fallen from the sky. Shuichi gasped, suddenly aware of what he was looking at.

Bombs. And lots of them. Apparently dormant, but still gleaming dangerously as the vans headlights swept over them. 

“U-uh,” Himiko stammered. “A-are those wh-what I think th-they are?”

Kokichi whistled. “Freeeaaky. These people sure know how to party, huh?”

Shuichi exhaled slowly, trying to control his breath. Even Maki seemed a little unnerved. “What happened here?” she asked.

“I don’t know the whole story,” Paris admitted. “But supposedly during the Burning Age, one army or another totally whiffed an airstrike and dropped, like, a megaton of duds on this district. Nobody knows if it was a miracle or a mechanical screw-up, and nobody knows if they’ll still go off some day or not.”

“Anyone else hear a ticking sound?” Kokichi put a hand to his ear.

“St-stop!” Himiko shouted. “That’s not funny!”

“Anyway…”Paris continued, weaving around a derelict bus. “It ended up being too dangerous and pricey to clean this place up, and everyone had evacuated anyway, so they just built a big ol’ wall and called it a day. Pretty sure most people have never even seen this place.” She grinned. “Which makes it the perfect safehouse.”

“Wait a second,” Shuichi said. “You’re saying your hideout is inside this minefield?”

“Sort of. There’s a train station just up ahead that has an access hatch to all the old tunnels running beneath the city. That’s where my secret lair is.” The Hacker winked mischievously. “So don’t worry, even if the bombs do go off, we’ll be safe and snug underground.”

Maki frowned. “Unless the tunnels collapse.”

Paris blinked, then laughed. “Oh yeah. If that happens we’re totally boned.”

“N-not me,” Himiko meekly proclaimed. “My magical barrier w-will protect me, so I-I’m not scared at all.”

“Hear that guys?” Kokichi asked excitedly. “Himiko just volunteered to be our human shield from now on!”

“W-wait…that’s not…”

Shuichi leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. Ahead, he could make out a domed, multi-tiered building, its wide, once-pristine windows cracked and punctured by several errant missiles. This was the train station Paris was referring to: their gateway to her hideout and, presumably, safety. The thought should’ve filled Shuichi with relief. But somehow, the feeling still eluded him.

The Detective closed his eyes, running through the preceding events once more. If there was one trick he had learned during the Killing Game, it was that sometimes following the evidence wasn’t enough. Sometimes to make a break in a case, you had to make a leap of faith to challenge your perception. In this case, Shuichi had to put his trust in Team Danganronpa’s capabilities. He had to assume that, somehow, somebody had managed to track them.

So: if the Detective viewed the current situation through that lens, what did he see? Was there a way to reconcile this assumption with the fact that the 53rd had made it this far? Wouldn’t their hypothetical stalker have intervened by now?

Or…would they have lay in wait, biding their time…until the fugitives led them right to…

A bolt of clarity raced through Shuichi’s mind. He whipped his gaze to the passenger window, eyes scanning the overpass above until he found the confirmation he was dreading. There, among the abandoned cars and rusting bikes, a familiar super sports car was parked overlooking Paris’ route. And standing in front of it, her black hair billowing in the breeze, was Team Danganronpa’s Head of Security.

Chloe Schwarzblum had found the 53rd. And now they were right in her crosshairs.

“Everyone hold onto something!” Shuichi managed to shout before the POP of a gunshot echoed in the distance.

BOOM. The van jerked off course as the back-left tire burst. The vehicle careened towards a nearby bomb, the Ultimates screaming all the way. Paris yanked the wheel hard, swinging into the turn and narrowly avoiding an explosive collision. But the momentum of the maneuver was too great: the van tilted and tumbled end over end, Shuichi and his friends bouncing in the interior like rag dolls. The world spun as the Detective slammed into the roof, all sense of direction knocked free from him.

With a metallic screech, the van finally settled on its side. Shuichi groaned and tried to lift himself, his head still throbbing. In the distance, he heard the sound of an engine approaching.

The 53rd class had thought they were free. Now they were sitting ducks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just wanted to thank you all for reading and for leaving such nice comments. Even though I'm terrible at replying to them, believe me when I say they mean a lot. 
> 
> I'm in the middle of moving, so the updates may become even more erratic than they've been recently, but rest assured the fic is not dead. This story is just beginning. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you continue to enjoy it, and thanks again!
> 
> \--Zooosh


	12. Duel / The Ultimate Test of Brains vs. Brawn?

The moment the world stopped spinning, Maki's senses snapped into overdrive. From the sound of the engine in the distance, she estimated she had thirty seconds before her team's assailant reached them. Thirty seconds to make the decision that would determine their fate; thirty seconds to boil the situation down to the most basic binary: fight, or flight?

First check: her own battle readiness. Despite the violence of the crash, the damage it inflicted on the Assassin was minimal. She had Shuichi to thank for that: his warning had given her time to grab a nest of wires before the van flipped, allowing her to anchor herself and avoid a worst case scenario. She had still sustained a few bruises, but nothing that would hamper her in a fight.

Second check: her comrades. Paris and Shuichi were still conscious, but the tumble had clearly left them pained and disoriented.  Kokichi and Himiko were faring even worse: they lay motionless on a bed of shattered monitors, having suffered the full brunt of the crash.

"Kokichi, Himiko!" Maki shouted. "Can you hear me?"

"Urrrgh," the Supreme Leader moaned. "Five more minutes, mama. I don' wanna go t'school..."

"Kokichi, get up!" the Assassin barked. "Check on Himiko, she's hurt!"

"Huh?" Kokichi blinked, shook the dizziness from his head, and pulled himself to Himiko's side, placing his fingers on her neck. "She's got a pulse, but I think she's out cold. Or taking laziness to a whole new level.”

"Can you lift her?"

"I think if I...AGH!" Kokichi yelped, falling on his hands and knees. "Rrrragh, my stupid ankle is twisted!"

This was bad. The roar of the approaching sports car was growing louder. Time was almost up.

Maki swept her gaze around the environment, completing her final check: mission objectives. The hostage was unconscious behind her--chances were, transporting him at this point wasn't an option. The train station that lead to Paris's hideout was still at least a hundred yards away, too far for the Ultimates to safely run to. If their adversary was able to shoot out the tire of a moving van, they'd have no problem picking off a pack of limping teenagers. Especially if the Hacker and the Detective had to carry Himiko the whole way.

That left only one course of action. Maki shoved Odafe's limp body aside, pulling the engraved handgun out from under him. “Shuichi! Paris!” she shouted as she checked the clip. "Grab Himiko and make a break for the hideout. Kokichi, follow close behind. Zig-zag through the bombs so you're not an easy target." 

"W-wait," Shiuchi protested, his eyes rapidly coming into focus. "What about you?"

Maki slammed the magazine back into the gun. "I'm gonna buy you time." Before the Detective could protest, she threw open the sliding door overhead, throwing herself outside with her weapon drawn.

Time slowed for Maki as her target swerved into view: a sleek, suped-up sports car, black save for the jagged red slash painted on the side. The Assassin drew a bead on the tinted windshield, squeezing off two rounds before she had even hit the ground. The shots splintered the glass where the driver’s head would be, but didn’t penetrate. Bullet-proof windows; of course.

Maki completed her dive and rolled into a firing stance, the barrel of her gun erupting as she placed three more bullets into the speeding vehicle, covering the driver’s view. The car turned and slid to a screeching halt, blocking any further fire with the passenger side flank. Whoever was at the wheel, they knew how to handle themselves in combat: now they would be able to safely slip out of the car and use it as cover, creating a flexible and stable firing position that Maki would be hard pressed to uproot. This wasn’t going to be easy.

With a growl of frustration, The Assassin took cover behind the downed van, checking her ammo count and mentally preparing for a firefight. Behind her, the other Utlimates were weaving through the dormant bombs towards the train station, making good progress despite their injuries. Maki just had to keep their pursuer’s head down for a little while longer. Or punch a .45 ACP-sized hole through it. Whichever came first.

* * *

 

Chloe slid out of the driver’s seat and crouched behind the bulk of her stalled vehicle, readying the handgun she had nicked from her former lieutenant. Thank god she had decided to risk taking an armored company car rather than commandeering a civilian vehicle; otherwise, the Ultimate Assassin’s shots would’ve surely painted the interior with Chloe’s brains. A shame the Psychologist no longer had the element of surprise, but the night was not lost just yet: if she could find an angle on the fleeing Ultimates, she could halt their advance with one well-placed stun shot.

She just needed to peek around the rear bumper and…

 _Pak. Zing._ Chloe jerked back as two shots slammed into metal where her eye just was, one sending a burst of angry sparks as it ricocheted millimeters past her skin. She fell on her butt before cursing and scrambling upright. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy—this was the Ultimate Assassin she was in a firefight with. Even with Chloe’s extensive combat training and experience, Maki still had her beat in terms of raw talent and athleticism.

The Psychologist paused, listening for any sounds of Maki re-positioning. Throughout her career as a soldier and security contractor, Chloe had been in her fair share of firefights. But it had been decades since her heart had pounded like this, electrifying her blood and sending sparks of anticipation across her skin. If there wasn’t so much at stake, she would be almost thrilled to take this fight.

Alas: though she still had the heart of a warrior, her mind was that of a scientist now. And it was that part of her that was forcing her to focus on her objectives, to see the field before her not as an arena, but as a puzzle. What pieces did she already have in play? What were the facts?

Fact: the gun Maki was wielding had a magazine capacity of twelve bullets.

Fact: the Assassin had already expended seven. The marks on the car confirmed as much.

Fact: if Chloe made herself open enough to return fire, Maki would easily be able to plant a bullet in the Psychologist before she could target the fleeing Ultimates.

Given that information, Chloe had to concede that the running students were probably as good as gone, at least for tonight. There was simply no way she could accurately take down targets that difficult to hit while still avoiding Maki’s shots.

But that didn’t mean the ex-Head of Security was out of options. If she kept forcing Maki’s hand, if she kept making the Assassin take shots and provide covering fire, eventually her remaining ammo would expire. In that case, Chloe may be able to close the distance, capture Maki, and salvage at least a partial victory. Some of the fugitives may escape, but capturing the deadliest Ultimate alive and rescuing Odafe was still an outcome worth playing for.

With a final deep breath for focus, Chloe slid her gun hand over the lip of the car trunk, making sure the flash of silver caught Maki’s attention. Sure enough, a perfectly placed shot skimmed across the metal, milliseconds after the Psychologists fingers had retreated to safety. She smirked; this could work.

Chloe repeated the pattern from there, exposing as little of herself as possible while still providing something for the Assassin to shoot. The toe of her boot; a flap of her coat; the barest glimpse of her shoulder. _Pak. Pak. Pak pak._ Chole let out a shocked gasp and dove back behind the car. That last one had been too close: Maki had actually managed to graze her shoulder just now. Still, the Head of Security’s first move had been a success: if she had calculated right, the Assassin’s weapon should be dry about now.

Time for phase two. In one smooth motion, Chloe slipped her coat from her shoulders and flung it out into the open, testing the waters. Nothing; no sound of gunfire from the Assassin’s side. Either she was truly out of bullets, or she had grown wise to Chloe’s game. There was only one way to find out, and the Psychologist had come too far to leave it a mystery.

Tightening her grip on her pistol, Chloe raised it into a firing position and swung out from cover. The Detective, Hacker, Magician, and Overlord were out of sight by now, but there was thankfully no incoming fire from the Assassin. Chloe advanced quickly but carefully, her eyes checking her flanks while her aim remained trained on the van. She didn’t hear Maki change positions, and the angle of the shots had seemed consistent. Which mean that the Assassin should be around the hood of the toppled van. Right about…

Here! Chloe whirled around the crumpled bumper, firing a preemptive stun shot as she did. But the round struck dirt; there was no Maki in sight.

Chloe’s veins ran cold. A shadow moved in the corner of her vision.

The Psychologist quickly raised her weapon, using it as a shield rather than a firearm. She was just in time: Maki dove from the van’s interior in a flash of crimson, striking at Chloe’s throat. The Assassin’s hand struck the gun instead, knocking it clear from Chloe’s grasp, but sparing her life. The Psychologist leaned back to dodge the follow up blow, only for the Assassin to lash a kick towards her stomach. No time to dodge—Chloe tucked her arms into her torso. A dull _whud_ rattled her entire body as the kick impacted, lifting her off her feet. The Psychologist landed in the dirt, then quickly rolled and sprung to safety, popping back to her feet ready for another assault.

But a follow up attack didn’t come. The Assassin stood about ten yards away, her deep red eyes glowering with fury. No doubt Maki was surprised Chloe had even withstood that assault, and was now forced to reassess her opponent.

Though Chloe’s forearms throbbed with pain, a grim smirk crept up her lips. From a shootout with the Ultimate Assassin to a one-on-one fistfight…the Psychologist was truly out of the frying pan and into the fire.

 _Still_ , she thought as she met her opponent’s glare, _that doesn’t mean_ I’m _the one about to get burned._

* * *

 

Maki watched as Danganronpa’s former Security Head brought her arms to the ready, emanating a bloodlust not unlike her own. The Assassin had to admit, the enemy was tougher than she looked. Still, there was only one way this was going to end.

Maki circled her prey slowly, gradually shifting her own position toward the flipped van. It was a carefully choreographed bait: most opponents would be drawn in to attack, hoping to force Maki against the cramped wreckage. But it was in such a situation that the Assassin’s skills would be at their deadliest. The Holy Salvation fighting style was one that mixed jiu jitsu style grapples with quick and brutal kills. If Maki could draw her opponent in, she could easily turn the tables, pin the Psychologist in the corner, and finish her using the shards of the broken windshield. The trap was set. All that remained was to see how Maki’s foe reacted.

Sure enough, the moment Maki’s back passed in front of the van, Chloe charged. She threw her first strike with surprising speed, a devastating hook toward Maki’s head. The Assassin just managed to block the attack, latching onto the Psychologist’s arm to begin the grapple. But Chloe kept her momentum forward, slamming herself into the van and pushing off of it to force Maki into the open. The Assassin’s eyes widened. Chloe had read Maki’s strategy like a book, and had blown it up with one swift move.

Maki quickly disengaged, releasing the Psychologist before she could turn the mix-up in her favor. Chloe lashed a follow-up punch at the retreating Assassin. Maki’s speed was all that saved her: the Psychologist’s knuckle grazed her cheek as she leapt out of range, leaving a small scratch on her pale skin.

The Assassin landed and prepared to receive her opponent’s counterattack. But the Psychologist didn’t pursue. She just stood there, watching Maki with an infuriating smirk.

“You must be shocked.” Chloe said. “According to the memories Shirogane implanted in you, that trick normally works, doesn’t it?”

Maki’s eyes narrowed. Why was Chloe bringing up Tsumugi in a time like this? Was this supposed to be some sort of mind game?

Chloe tsked and shook her head. “Well there’s something you should know about the Ultimate Cosplayer: like all great artists, she knew that the best inspiration is what you steal from the real world.” She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you can figure out where your fighting techniques came from? Surely you don’t think a girl like her invented an entire martial art out of thin air?”

“What difference does it make?” Maki spat. “It’ll end your life either way.”

“Oh, it matters quite a bit, actually,” Chloe smirked. “Here’s a hint.” The Psychologist gradually lowered her center of gravity, adopting a stance disturbingly familiar to Maki. The Assassin blinked, a shiver running down her spine as she realized what she was looking at.

It was one of the foundational positions of the Holy Salvation style. And Chloe was mirroring it perfectly.

“Well then,” the Psychologist quipped. “Shall we check Shirogane’s work?”


	13. Mirror Match / If I Can't Help Myself, What Hope Do You Have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Before we get to today's chapter, I just wanted to thank everyone whose read and supported this fic up til now. Sharing this has been one of the highlights of my year, and it's all thanks to you. So here's wishing you happy Holidays and a great New Year!)

A cool breeze whistled through the field of metal shells and cracked pavement. Maki’s mind raced with the wind, rapidly re-assessing the opponent that mirrored her stance on the other side of the clearing. Chloe was daring Maki to attack, to test her calculations against those of the Ultimate Psychologist.

Maki gradually strafed to the right, forcing her enemy to match her, beginning the dance that would decide their fate. No matter what Chloe did to psyche her out, the Assassin wasn’t going to let it get to her. She had faith in her strength and, more importantly, in her ability to kill.

But…was it really _her_ ability? Or were her techniques merely a copy of the woman she now faced?

“Let me ask you something,” Chloe suddenly remarked, as though reading the intrusive thought on Maki’s face. “Do you know why you’re fighting me?”

“You know damn well why,” Maki spat, still circling, still searching for her angle.

“I’m not sure I do,” Chloe pressed. “The obvious answer is to escape Team Danganronpa, but that just raises more questions. You were living quite comfortably under our roof, as far as I could tell. Yet you’ve thrown that all away and put you and your friends in serious danger. And for what?”

“Don’t try and twist things,” Maki shot back. “We were your prisoners in that hotel. We’ve been your prisoners ever since we woke up in that damn school.”

“You’re referring to the Killing Semester,” Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is about? All this violence and hate, just to get back at us for an event _you_ volunteered for?”

Maki grit her teeth, forcing herself to remain calm. “Your people keep saying that, but there’s no proof we ever signed off on that stupid game. Even that video Tsumugi showed us could’ve been a fake.”

“I see,” Chloe arched an eyebrow. “So you’re willing to commit murder because there’s a _chance_ your rights were violated. Does that sound like a worthy cause?”

“I don’t care how you try to spin it: any organization that forces teenagers to kill each other doesn’t deserve to live. It’s as simple as that.”

“What if we didn’t have a choice?”

Maki blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Chloe sighed. “You and the others seem to think the Killing Game exists for pure entertainment. But there are easier, cheaper, and less dangerous ways to give audiences a thrill. That’s not what Danganronpa provides. Danganronpa gives them hope.”

Maki grimaced. “Don’t bother with that hope and despair bullshit. It didn’t work when Tsumugi tried it, and it sure as hell isn’t going to work now.”

“But it’s true. The evidence is right here around you.” Chloe stretched her arms wide, gesturing to the fields of bombs imbedded in the pavement. “This is what happened when humanity lost all hope. This is a world without Danganronpa!”

There. That was the opening. Maki lunged forward, striking at Chloe’s exposed torso. But it was a trap: Chloe brought her guard in the moment Maki’s muscles tensed, allowing her to block the attack and its follow-up. Maki continued the assault, but the Psychologist read each move the moment before impact, deflecting every blow and twisting out of every grapple with practiced precision.

With a growl, Maki finally slipped between Chloe’s guard, landing an elbow to her stomach and twisting behind her back, in perfect position for a choke hold. But the Psychologist shifted and brought her arms up at the last second, halting Maki from crushing her windpipe and locking the two combatants in place.

“You know…it’s really…quite hypocritical,” Chloe quipped between strained breaths. “You see no problem killing to…save your orphanage or your friends. But when we kill to save the world…you sentence me to death.”

“That’s not the same.”

 Chloe glanced over her shoulder, managing to meet Maki’s eye. “Isn’t it?”

Maki felt her grip loosen for just a split second, but it was enough. Chloe ducked out of the hold, using her greater size to turn the grapple against the Assassin and throw her over her shoulder.  Maki hit the ground with a grunt, rolling and then springing back to her feet, ready for the Psychologist’s follow-up.

But none came. Chloe remained where she was in a defensive stance, seemingly uninterested in taking the offensive.

Maki slowed her breathing, trying to tamp down her frustration. “I know what you’re up to,” she said. “You know you can’t beat me in a straight fight. So you’re just biding your time, trying to get in my head so I’ll make a mistake.”

Chloe frowned. “You really do think I’m a monster, don’t you? Let me ask you this: have you ever considered why _I’m_ fighting as well?”

“I don’t care.” Maki suddenly shot forward in a blur of crimson, closing the distance with Chloe in the blink of an eye. Chloe raised her arms in anticipation, but this time it was the Psychologist’s turn to be duped. Instead of striking, the Assassin sprung into the air as she approached, flipping and hand-springing off her opponent’s shoulders.

As Chloe staggered, off balance, Maki landed gracefully at her back, right beside the wreckage of the downed van. In one smooth movement, the Assassin scooped up a dagger-like shard of glass, whirled around on her opponent, and brought it arcing towards the nape of her neck.

Chloe managed to spin around millimeters from death, the improvised blade skimming her cheek as she danced out of reach. The Psychologist retreated some distance, clearly caught off guard. A fresh red slash now arced across her pale cheek: a shallow cut, but one that brought Maki no small satisfaction.

Yet as the Psychologist brought a hand to her face, and examined the fresh blood on her glove, she seemed neither shocked, nor enraged. There was a strange weariness in her gaze, like a disappointed mother whose child is beyond help. “It seems I’m not making myself understood,” she stated flatly.

“I understand plenty,” Maki scoffed, flipping the glass in her grip and approaching for another attack.

“So headstrong, so sure of yourself,” Chloe shook her head. “Sometimes I forget that you’re all still teenagers at heart.”

“Not anymore we’re not,” Maki retorted. “You and your stupid Killing Game made sure of that.”

“You’re right,” Chloe admitted. “The things we’ve done to you…the memories we’ve placed inside of you…even most adults wouldn’t be able to handle it.” The Psychologist lowered her arms, dropping her guard right as Maki neared striking distance. “That’s why I don’t want to fight you, Maki; I want to save you.”

Bullshit. Maki lashed out at Chloe’s throat, hoping to cut the conversation with one swift stab. The Psychologist dodged the attack, then continued to duck and weave between the gleaming blade as the Assassin pressed her assault.

“I don’t want to destroy Danganronpa,” Chloe said as she danced out of harm’s way. “But that doesn’t mean I think what we did to you was right. You deserve better, Maki.”

“Enough!” Maki angrily thrust the glass towards Chloe’s heart, only for the Psychologist to grab the Assassin’s wrist, wrenching it aside. But rather than counterattack, Chloe stood her ground, locking Maki into place, their eyes boring into each other.

“The Killing Game was necessary to keep the world safe,” the Psychologist continued. “But there was no need to inflict you with so many horrible memories. There was no need to burden you with a life of abandonment and pain, no need to twist your thoughts and feelings for the sake of a tragic finale.”

Maki tried to break free of her opponent’s grip, but the Psychologist held fast. Despite herself, the Assassin couldn’t help but notice how clear Chloe’s eyes were. They shone like ice, yet there was something warm burning underneath. Was it…was it actually sympathy?

Chloe’s expression softened. “You were never meant for happiness, Maki,” she said. “Everything about you: your past, your disposition, your relationship with Kaito…it was all built to fail, to cause you to self-destruct in increasingly spectacular ways. Even now, that horrible engine in your head is still working, still driving you to lash out, to court death, to push people away and isolate yourself from love. It’s how we made you, Maki. And it’s what you’re fighting to preserve.”

“Shut up!” Maki roared. She spun her body around, yanking her hand free and whipping a devastating kick into Chloe’s torso. The Psychologist flew back with a pained gasp, skidding against the pavement before slamming into the side of her sports car.

Maki advanced with enraged strides, gripping the glass so tight her hand started to bleed. But she couldn’t feel it. Her body was consumed by a maelstrom of rage and confusion. This woman…no, this monster before her. Overseeing the Killing Game was enough to warrant death. But to turn the other cheek and pretend to care…to twist and manipulate Maki’s own heart against her…to try and take the blame for Kaito’s death. It was too cruel. It was…it was…

Chloe looked up as the Assassin’s shadow fell over her. Maki could tell there was no fight left in her: that kick had cracked one of her ribs, and from this position it would be nearly impossible for her to escape anyway. All the Assassin had to do was end it.

Yet the blade in her hand remained still.

Chloe tried to sit up, only to wince and slump against the car door. “Why do you fight so hard to save what’s killing you?” she asked. “You could’ve been saved…we could’ve wiped your memories and given you a second chance. Yet you still cling to the darkness that’s trying to swallow you. Why?”

Maki’s hand trembled. Don’t listen to her. Just end it. Now. Shut her up.

 “I guess I can’t blame you,” the Psychologist coughed. “I’m guilty of the same crime myself. The memories I carry…the sins I’ve committed…I’m terrified of them, yet I’m more terrified of what will happen if I lose them.” She sighed. “If trauma is what make us who we are, than removing it is tantamount to erasing the self. Still, I found myself wondering what’s on the other side.” She lifted her gaze, meeting Maki’s with a humorless smile. “What do you think?”

The Assassin looked away, suddenly unable to meet her target’s eyes. It should be easy. It should’ve been over the minute Maki landed that kick. Every instinct in her bones was screaming for her to finish the job. But the Psychologists words had created a spark, rekindling something in the deepest recesses of her mind. It was a flame Kaito had once fanned, a light guiding her away from her worst instincts, showing her another path forward. She didn’t have to be a killer. Maybe she never was in the first place. Maybe…maybe…

That’s when Maki noticed it: the Psychologist’s car was still running. Not only that, but the police radio in the dashboard was still turned on. And it was broadcasting a tracking signal.  

Before Maki could process this, the air was expelled from her lungs by a sudden blow to her torso. She could only manage a weak gasp of pain as she felt her arm pulled behind her back, popping out if its socket as Chloe completed the maneuver. Her fingers grasped around the Assassin’s throat, hoisting her into the air and squeezing what little air remained inside her. Maki squirmed feebly, but already she was struggling to keep her eyes focused.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said. “It’s nothing personal.”

Maki’s arms went limp at her sides. Black spots blotted out her vision. It was over. She had lost.

 _Crack._ Chloe’s body suddenly jerked as blue sparks leapt across her body. She fell to the ground in a limp heap, dropping Maki along with her.

The Assassin hit the ground with a startled wheeze as air suddenly flooded her lungs. Her mind spun with exhaustion and confusion as she gasped desperately for oxygen, rubbing her throat where the Psychologist hand had bruised. She turned in the direction the stun shot had come from, and almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Nyeh, t-that’s what you get for hurting my friend!” Himiko shouted, Chloe’s lost pistol still smoking in her hand. “My lightening spell has +2 damage against st-stupid jerks like you!”

“H-himiko?” Maki coughed, struggling to stand. “Wh-when did you…”

“Maki, wait!” Himiko cried, nearly tripping over Chloe’s unconscious body as she ran to the Assassin. “Don’t move so fast, you’re hurt!”

“It’s…fine, I…”

The sound of sirens echoed in the distance, cutting her off. The Magician moved to the Assassin’s side, helping her up and trying to support her as she moved. “We have to get going,” Himiko groaned, clearly struggling to keep Maki upright and trying to hide it. “Paris and the others are inside, but they’re probably on their way to get us now. I ran off on my own ‘cause I knew you needed my magic fast.”

“Wait,” Maki said, snatching the pistol from Himiko’s grip. “There’s something we need to finish.” She aimed it at Chloe’s prone body on the ground, flipping the setting to “lethal” as she did.

To her surprise, Himiko grabbed Maki’s hand, stopping her from shooting. “No, you can’t kill her!” the Magician protested.

“Why the hell not?” the Assassin glowered.

“I…I...I don’t have time to explain,” Himiko stammered. “But I promised Kokichi I would stop you. I-i-it’s important!” she added when Maki’s eyes narrowed. “Th-that's the truth, okay?"

Maki hesitated a moment, then let the gun fall limply at her side. She no longer had the energy or strength to protest. She just wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.

“Alright,” the Assassin relented. “Lead the way.”


	14. A Prologue to the Second Arc of LiV3 and Let Lie

Chloe checked her watch as she waited in the hospital lobby. Odafe was scheduled to be released any moment now, if what the receptionist told her was true. The sooner the better; the Psychologist didn’t have too many fond memories attached to hospitals. The pristine white walls and sterile decoration always struck her as…untrustworthy somehow. A lacquered façade to hide the violence lingering in the foundation; a shopping mall built upon a burial ground.

Maybe she was just being morbid. Visits to the Ultimate Programmer usually put her in that sort of mood.

In fairness, she had plenty to be dour about. It had been three days since her duel with Maki in the Forbidden District, and though the nanomachine’s in the Psychologist’s bloodstream had mended her wounds, the news coming out of the ensuing investigation was anything but encouraging. All they could confirm for sure was that the fugitives fled into the train station, and from there into the abandoned subway below. Tracing their steps from that point on, however, was proving to be impossible: not only was the old rail line a labyrinthine tangle of maintenance corridors and unfinished construction, but it also connected to a series of bomb shelters buried deep beneath the city, each with their own series of sub-chambers, passageways, and dead-ends. Worse still, the entire system had been built before the Burning Age, meaning many of the blueprints were lost in the fires of war that followed.

It was perhaps not surprising then that the drones and investigators of the metropolitan police had turned up nothing, but that didn’t make it any less troubling. Chloe’s fears were all but confirmed: the search for the Ultimates was going to be a long and arduous one. And it was only a matter of time before that news reached Lady Hope, who would likely form a task force to continue the hunt in response. Whenever that happened—and it would happen soon—Chloe needed to make sure she was on that team.

And to do that, she needed Odafe. Unfortunately.

The elevator closest to her chimed, snapping the Psychologist out of her thoughts. She stood as Odafe stepped out of the elevator, the Programmer’s surprise clearly written on his face as he stepped into the sharp fluorescent lighting. He was dressed in the clothes he had arrived in, his fine silk coat still torn and flecked with blood from his wounds. Still, he carried himself proudly as his dusty shoes clicked against the tile floor, as though there was nothing strange about wearing the remnants of a hostage crisis.

Well, at least one of them was comfortable. “Glad to see you’re well, Odafe,” Chloe opened with a nod. “I assume there were no complications with your recovery.”

“We wouldn’t be speaking if there were,” the Programmer answered, trying to covertly look around the Psychologist towards the exit. “Which brings up a good point: why are you here?”

“I’m your ride,” Chloe stepped aside, gesturing for Odafe to follow. “I’m parked just outside.”

He hesitated. “I believe I’ve already ordered a car.”

“And I believe I’m providing one.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice to make sure she wasn’t overhead. “We need to talk. Now.”  

The Programmer sniffed, trying to appear annoyed, but clearly reading the seriousness in Chloe’s expression. “Very well. I suppose I owe you at least this much.”

“Very magnanimous of you,” Chloe quipped, heading for the exit.

The doors slid open as the two Ultimates stepped into the chilly autumn sun. Chloe’s car was waiting at the curb, its shining black surface no longer bearing the scars of the previous battle. She raised the passenger door before circling to the other side, sliding into the driver seat and starting the car as Odafe buckled himself in. He turned to face his window as the car pulled away from the hospital and left the parking lot, an uncomfortable silence settling in as Chloe maneuvered down the exit road towards the highway. The Psychologist let him stew in his thoughts for a moment, allowing him the courtesy of re-initiating the discussion. Negotiating with the Programmer was a delicate dance: she would have to guide the steps while still making it seem like he was the one taking the lead. For man who fashioned himself a one-of-a-kind genius, he had inherited a lot of typical, aristocratic tendencies along with his family name.   

“I suppose you think this whole affair very amusing,” the Programmer finally said as they merged into midday traffic. “I assume provisional authority of your role, only for you to swoop in and save the day as the whole world watches. A fitting climax for the Schwarzblum saga.”

“That’s a hell of a way to say ‘thank you,’” Chloe sighed. “Would you rather I left you with the 53rd instead of jeopardize your precious titles?”

“Don’t act like your actions were purely altruistic. Admit it: a part of you was thrilled to have the opportunity to capitalize on my…misfortune.”

The Psychologist snorted. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

“And? Am I now speaking to the newly re-instated Head of Security?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Odafe’s eyes widened. “You mean you haven’t spoken to her yet?”

“She hasn’t called me in, and I didn’t want to raise the issue,” Chloe met Odafe’s gaze. “Not until I spoke to you first.”

Odafe grimaced. “What, do you want my blessing? Or perhaps to prostrate myself in front of our boss for your benefit? Just take the damn title, Schwarzblum, and be grateful you got it so easily.”

Alright, that was enough. Chloe set the car on autopilot, turning so she could face Odafe in full. “I’m not sure you comprehend exactly what is happening here, Odafe,” she hissed. “Five Ultimates are now unaccounted for. Three of them have talents with the serious potential to threaten the security and stability of our society. And all of them have reason to bare a grudge against Team Danganronpa. There’s more at stake here than the company pecking order, so I need you to put your little power plays on hold and actually work with me as a colleague for once.”

Odafe flinched at the Psychologist’s admonishments, but quickly recovered. “O-of course I am aware of the larger picture, Schwarzblum. But surely you acknowledge it’s prudent to consider our own position therein.”

“That’s why we’re having this conversation,” Chloe exhaled, recomposing herself. “To talk strategy.”

Odafe regarded Chloe warily. “Strategy?”

The Psychologist nodded. “Now that we’re both in full health, and the results of the police investigation have been released, a summons from Lady Hope will arrive on our doorsteps any second now. More than likely, the hearings that follow will determine our fate within Team Danganronpa.”

The Programmer titled his head. “Yes, and in that case I imagine my rescue will be quite the feather in your cap. So I’m not sure what more you…”

“Just listen for a moment. Even though I prevented a worst-case scenario, the end result is still far from good. Not only that, but in the process of rescuing you, I broke multiple company and municipal laws, all while under investigation for past mistakes. There’s nothing clear-cut about this case: depending on how Lady Hope analyzes it—and what the other Heads are whispering in her ear—I could just as easily end up commended as condemned.”

For once, Chloe’s words seemed to be sinking into Odafe’s shaved skull. He stroked his chin, his eyes tracing a line of thought across the gleaming skyline. “I see. So you really do need my help.”

“We need each other,” the Psychologist corrected. “Since we’re the only two that have encountered the fugitives, our word will carry weight if we back up each other’s claims. We minimize our own failings, and highlight the 53rd as unparalleled threat, one the entire company—no, the entire world--was unprepared for. We then argue that, due to the unique nature of our targets, whoever intends to pursue them will be operating in uncharted territory. Unless...”

“Unless they already have experience going up against the 53rd,” Odafe finished his colleague’s conclusion. “You want us to turn our failures into reasons for us to lead the task force.”

“It’s an argument with merit,” Chloe nodded. “Especially if we have each other’s backs.”

 “And you think this will lead to us recouping our former titles?”

Chloe hesitated. “It will earn us a shot at redemption. And right now, I think that’s the best either of us can ask for.”

Odafe mused this over for a second, tilting his head from side to side, as though he could literally see every angle to Chloe’s reasoning. Finally, the whisper of a smile flitted across his features. “You’re sharper than you look, Schwarzblum,” he admitted. “Most of the members of your department are narrow-minded meatheads. But you…I could see us going places. With you as my subordinate of course.”

Chloe had to literally bite her tongue to stop from snapping back. He really didn’t have an off switch, did he? “It’s not just a matter of reclaiming our standing,” she said. “I genuinely believe this outcome is the best for preserving Danganronpa. And the world.”

“Perhaps,” Odafe mused, reclining in his seat. “Though I think you may giving the 53rd too much credit. Remember: they’re teenagers whose personalities were specifically engineered to breed conflict and distrust. Obviously, that doesn’t mean their incapable of cooperation. But eventually, their natures will get the better of them. Especially with that obnoxious runt in their mix.”

Chloe said nothing to this. It was true that Killing Game classes tended to be built to prioritize volatile and incompatible personality types: it was the only way to make sure murders occurred, after all. Yet doubts still lingered in the Psychologist’s mind, their shadows forming a dark hypothesis. It was a notion that occurred to her after Paris had escaped the Americas Killing Game some years back, and now, after seeing the 53rd class in action, there was a chance her theory was becoming reality.

Her fight with Maki shouldn’t have ended the way it had. Chloe had read the scenario perfectly, deployed a textbook attack on her opponent’s psyche, and brought the Assassin to her knees. Yet in the last moment, she was thwarted by none other than Himiko Yumeno, a childish girl who had never acted alone or without prompting in her life. Himiko, the tiny vaudevillian who had been nothing but a figure of sympathy or ridicule since her creation, had singlehandedly saved her friend and thwarted Team Danganronpa’s most skilled soldier. So: what could account for that discrepancy?

There was a chance it was a fluke, or a simple miscalculation on Chloe’s part. But equally likely…was that the opposite of Odafe’s theory was true. The students weren’t bound by their nature; they were bound by the context of that Killing Game. And, if Chloe’s hypothesis was correct, now that the context was removed…

…The 53rd class was _changing_. And not just along the lines of Tsumugi’s narrative, but into something else entirely. Something strange, unprecedented, and unpredictable.

In other words: something very dangerous indeed.


	15. Mending / Home Is Where the Chocolate Is

Himiko counted the rosé-colored lights as she passed, trying not to get distracted by the echoing of her footsteps against the walls. Even after a few days in Paris’s headquarters—or, as she called it, “The Heart-quarters”—it was still easy for the Magician to get turned around. The place was like a hi-tech bunker crossed with a love hotel: winding passages and maintenance shafts connecting to dozens of cramped rooms, some filled with cutesy decorations and furniture, others housing banks of servers and equipment Himiko couldn’t begin to understand. Heck, it still amazed her that the Hacker had managed to get her hands on this much stuff, even after she confessed to hacking automated delivery trucks in her free time. That particular detail hadn’t pleased Shuichi, but Kokichi was tickled pink by it, so much so that he immediately launched into a long-winded request for hundreds of different toys and costumes. So immature. Though now that Himiko thought about it, some new stage props and outfits might be nice…

She paused next to a wall made of smartglass, currently streaming some sort of boring business program with the volume off. The Magician drew her hand down in front of the sleek surface like the Hacker had showed her, turning off the broadcast and revealing Himiko’s reflection on the now-darkened screen.

She looked performance-ready…right? The slight curve of the improvised mirror made it hard to tell. She titled her hat back a tad, brushing a loose strand of hair aside as she did. This was the problem with up-close magic—there was no stage or lighting rig to hide behind, just her, her audience, and her ability to hold their attention. The Magician hoped that would be enough.

She abruptly turned away, hurrying down the hall before she could dwell on it any longer. What was she thinking? Of course it would be enough. This was Maki she was talking about. She wasn’t some rowdy bachelorette party or drunken celebrity—she was Himiko’s friend. The best kind of audience there was.

Still…it was pretty clear that something was up with the Ultimate Assassin. She had been acting strange ever since they got away from Team Danganronpa. While Shuichi spent most of his time researching and Kokichi wandered the halls doing…whatever it was he did in his free time (not that Himiko cared), Maki hid all day in her room, barely speaking to anyone. Being all silent and secretive. Well, more silent and secretive than usual.

No doubt about it: The Assassin was thinking bad thoughts. And the only cure for that, Himiko knew, was a little pinch of magic.

So why was she now shivering outside Maki’s door? It was just the usual pre-show jitters, right? It’s not like Maki would get mad, right? It’s not like this was life or death or anything…right?

Oh no, now the bad thoughts were getting to her too! Himiko shut her eyes tight and slapped her cheeks. This was not the time to get stage fright. This was the time to help a friend. If Tenko could neo-aikido-throw the sadness out of Himiko, she could surely magic it out of Maki.

“I can hear you out there, Himiko,” the Assassin’s muffled voice said through the frosted glass door.

“Nyeh?!” Himiko started. “Aah-uhhh, I mean, can I come in? I found something important.”

“Whatever,” came the reply.

The door slid open, admitting Himiko into the Ultimate Assassin’s room. The hideout’s dormitories all came with the basics: a bed and nightstand combo, plus a desk, chair, dresser and smart-glass wall for watching T.V.  What really set each room apart were the holographic installations Paris had set up. Maki’s floor was dotted with dozens of pretty white flowers, which swayed gently in a virtual breeze as Himiko passed. It was an amazing sight and made the Ultimate Magician’s imagination run wild with possibilities. Just think of the illusions she could pull off! She’d barely have to consume any MP!

The digital wonders were lost on the Assassin, however. She sat hunched on her mattress, knees to her chest, her crimson eyes locked on the Magician as she tepidly moved to the foot of the bed.

“H-h-h-hey,” Himiko stammered. “H-how’s it going?”

“Are you hiding something?” Maki’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you shaking so much?”

“N-no of course not. H-h-h-h-how’s your shoulder?”

“Better,” the Assassin admitted, stretching her arm. “I should be at full capacity in a couple days.”

“That’s g-good. You’ve been s-so quiet lately I w-was worried you were r-really hurt.”

“I’ve been through worse,” the Assassin’s expression clouded over. “Or…at least…I remember it that way. I don’t know,” she rested her head on her knees, exhausted. “Wasn’t there something important you wanted to show me? I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

Himiko swallowed. Right. The show must go on. “That’s right. I wanted to show you these,” Himiko reached into her blazer pocket, extracting a bright red box of chocolates. “Ta-daaa! I was looking around the kitchen, and I found these tucked away behind a stack of energy bars. I thought we could share ‘em together. Uh…” she blinked. “Y-you do like chocolate, right?”

Maki’s titled her head. “I guess.”

Yes! She was in. “Great,” Himiko brightened, stepping forward and opening the box. “There are pictures on the back so we know which is which. So now all I have to do is…”

Suddenly, the chocolates vanished from the Magician’s grasp. “Nyeh?” She spun around, eyes wide, the perfect picture of confusion. “Where’d they go? They were right in my hand!” She turned to Maki and was pleased to see her eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“Hang on,” the Magician continued. “I think someone put a disappearing curse on them to keep them safe. Let me just…” She waved her hands, then flicked her hat up, revealing the box of chocolates underneath. “Ah-ah!” she declared triumphantly. “The Amazing Himiko has cracked the…oh no!” She opened the box, only for a bouquet of flowers to shoot out instead. She stomped her foot in comical exasperation. “This is awful! There’s a second layer to the curse! Maki, I’m going to need your help to…”

And that’s she felt the hidden chocolates rolling out of the hole in her hat. She stiffened, turning beet red as the errant sweets clattered to the ground, cutting her act short.

An oppressive silence flooded the room. Himiko wished it would swallow her up.

Maki cleared her throat. “That…wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

“Uhhhhh…,” Himiko bent down to pick up the chocolates, hiding her face beneath her hat as she did so. Of all times for a wardrobe malfunction to strike. _Disaster. Disaster. Major, red-alert, world-ending disaster!_ “I-I forgot: back at the Hotel, that Programmer guy shot a hole in my hat. I-it must’ve created a gap in my mana stream so, I…um…”

A tear fell down her cheek, carving a fizzling path through the virtual flower below. She wanted nothing more than to run out of there at full speed, but she didn’t dare raise her head to meet Maki’s gaze. Not only had the Magician failed her as a performer, but as a friend as well. _Stupid Himiko!_ How could she have possibly thought his was a good—

Maki gently lifted the hat from Himiko’s head. “Here,” the Assassin murmured. “Let me fix it.”

The Magician looked up, shocked to see Maki calmly reach into her nightstand and withdraw a compact sewing kit. “W-wait, you don’t have to …”

“I learned how to sew in the Orphanage,” Maki interrupted, finding a black thread to match the hat. “Kids would always chase me down asking me to mend this or that dress or fix this or that a stuffed animal. It was annoying but…it was also kind of nice to set something right.”

She sighed. And for the first time in days, Himiko saw her shoulders relax. “Want me to show you how it’s done?” The Assassin offered, nodding towards an empty space on the bed. “We can eat the chocolates too, as long as they don’t disappear again.”

Himiko smiled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She scooped up the chocolates and climbed onto the mattress, eagerly awaiting Maki’s lesson.

Even for an experienced mage like her, magic still worked in mysterious ways.

* * *

 

Shuichi hesitated as he stepped into Paris’s darkened lab. All the lights were off, save for a single lamp on at her workstation, which barely illuminated her hunched, stationary form over her desk. For a moment, the Detective considered coming back some other time, but he had already put this conversation off long enough. He needed answers. And there was only one way he was going to get them.

“Paris?” he called out, gradually approaching from her back. “Do you have minute to…”

Suddenly, the Hacker jolted up in her seat, causing Shuichi start. “Huh?” she exclaimed, spinning around. “Who…ohhhhhh it’s Shuichi,” she sighed, slumping back into the chair. “I thought for a second the Calamari King was coming for me.”

The Detective paused. “The what?”

“Oh, just a dream I was having. Falling asleep in this chair always gives me the weirdest nightmares. Anwyay,” she waved her hands, causing the room to come to life. Her smartglass desk lit up with a crimson keyboard and array of controls and sliders; the bank of monitors blinked awake, revealing feeds of audio, visual, and coding data too dense for Shuichi to parse; finally, the walls themselves turned on, becoming a bright blue sky dotted with holographic clouds and rainbows. “Enough about meeee….” the Hacker said, batting her eyelashes. “Let’s talk about you! What’s up? How’s your room? Toilet acting normal?”

“I-I think so…wait, why do you ask?”

“Nothing! No reason!” she exclaimed. “Just tryin’ to be a good host. Don’t want the plumbing to suddenly shoot a hot geyser of water where the sun don’t shine. Not that it would!” she rushed to add. “But, y’know, pipes: weird, right?”

“I, uh, I guess,” Shuichi shook his head, trying to reorient the conversation. “Actually, I came for two reasons. The first is to return this,” he pulled her KeroPad out of his pocket. “And the second…”

“Ohhhh, so you’re finally done with your research?” Paris nicked the tablet from his grasp. “Hope you got what you needed?”

“Yes, but I have a few…questions I wanted to ask you.”

Paris snorted, spinning towards a shelf to put the KeroPad away. “I bet. Though fair warning: I dunno how much I can teach you that the net hasn’t. Social Studies has always been more like Snooze Studies for me.”

“It’ll still be useful to get your perspective. But that stuff can wait for when the others are here. What I need to ask you…” he paused, trying and failing to find a delicate way to broach the subject. “…It’s about the Americas Killing Game.”

The Hacker blinked. “Oh that,” she smiled sadly. “Yeah, I, uh, figured this was coming eventually.” She turned away, falling silent as she collected her thoughts. Shuichi waited patiently, watching as a virtual unicorn galloped around the outer ring of the room, casting an eerie magenta glow across the darkening atmosphere before vanishing.

“Can I ask one question first?” Paris finally said, turning to face the Detective. “Back in the van, when we were escaping…you saw something on my KeroPad, didn’t you?”

Shuichi crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby workbench. “Most of the news stories I saw at the time described you as a fugitive or a vigilante hacker. But one article had a different nickname for you.”

Paris nodded, clearly aware of what was coming next, but still waiting for the Detective to say it. Well, there was no point in beating around the bush any longer.

“They called you…’Paris the Blackened.’”


	16. The Case of Paris / The Only Me is Me; Are You Sure the Only You is You?

“They called you…‘Paris the Blackened,’” Shuichi said. He watched the Hacker closely, trying to gauge what her reaction would be. He didn’t think—no, he didn’t want to _believe_ —that she posed any kind of threat, but confronting someone with the truth often had a way of revealing their true nature. How would Paris’ take shape?

To Shuichi’s surprise, she didn’t act shocked or upset. Rather, she seemed annoyed. “I was reeaaally hoping we’d get to know each other before having this talk,” she said, bringing her knees to her chest. “But leave it to the Ultimate Detective to find the back route around my affection flags.”

“I can understand why you…might not want to discuss it,” Shuichi offered. “But I can’t hide what I know from my friends. So the least I can do is get your perspective first. After all, it’s not like the news sites and forums painted a particularly clear picture.”

Paris sighed. “They probably just told you I killed my whole class in the name of love, right?”

“Er…something like that.” Shuichi admitted.

“Hmmmm…” the Hacker pouted and spun her chair. “Well…I guess that’s half-true, maybe? There’s a lot they’re leaving out, obvi, but my character motive _was_ to be reunited with my lifelong crush. And, I mean…” her voice grew quiet. “They did all die ‘cause of me.”

Shuichi felt a chill race down his spine. A million questions leapt to his tongue, but he bit them back. Sometimes, it was best to let a witness finish their testimony before pressing them for info. Especially if, as the Detective suspected, their recollection was laced with lingering trauma.

Paris twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, the action apparently helping her collect her thoughts. “It was the 50th season Danganronpa,” she finally continued. “AKA the Americas Killing Game, AKA Everyone’s Deadly Summer Vacation. The story was, we were a group of students from the American branch of Hope’s Peak Academy, and had just won an once-in-a-lifetime cruise on our summer break. Except, wouldn't ya know it, it turned out that Monokuma had hijacked the boat, stolen our memories, and, well…motives, murders, mysteries, you know how it goes. My character was…is…Paris, the Ultimate Hacker: a ditzy savant who was secretly in love with a girl in the Reserve Course. I had to spill that little tidbit during the third class trial though, in order to defend my innocence. It was some pretty tear-jerky stuff, apparently. Makes it into a lotta ‘Top 10 Danganronpa Moments’ vids, y’know?”

“You describe it as though you don’t remember,” Shuichi observed.

“Good catch,” Paris winked. “I’ll get to that part soon. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to hide anything. It’s just…well…it’s…” her mouth hovered open, struggling to form the words.

Shuichi offered his palms in contrition. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to throw you off track. Please, feel free to continue in whatever way makes you comfortable.”

Paris smiled. “You’re so sweet. No wonder everyone trusts you.” She exhaled. “Anyway, the Killing Game was going basically as you would expect for the first couple weeks. Then, after the third trial, one of my classmates, the Ultimate Thief, came to me with an idea. He thought that if I could hack one of the Monopads, we could use it to tip the odds in our favor. The rules said we couldn’t mess with any student’s pad, but they didn’t say anything about using those left behind by corpses. So he stole one and brought it to me, asking me to find a way for us to escape. Instead…I found something I shouldn’t have.”

The Hacker paused again, playing with her hair as she constructed her explanation. “Somebody screwed up,” she continued. “I dunno who was programming those MonoPads, but they didn’t do a great job covering their tracks. The source code was supposed to look like it was built by the Remnants of Despair, but there were bits and pieces that felt…off. Like loose ends I wasn’t supposed to see. Signposts pointing to nowhere, directories that had mysteriously vanished, that kinda thing.  So instead of being satisfied with what I found, I dug deeper. And that’s when I started seeing stuff that didn’t make any sense. References to Team Danganronpa, to past seasons, and even to our character plotlines. It was…it was…”

“Maddening,” Shuichi grimaced.

Paris pointed both fingers in the affirmative. “Bingo. Trying to make sense of it all made me feel like I was going crazy. Like, the Killing Game was already making me question a whole lot, but now even that was totally up in the air.” She frowned. “That’s when I found the role log.”

“Role log?” Shuichi repeated.

“It was a file that showed the ‘roles’ Team Danganronpa had given us inside their story. That’s where I saw that the Ultimate Thief was labeled ‘Main Lead.’ Betcha you can’t guess what that meant.”

Shuichi grimaced. “I suppose that meant he was the so-called ‘protagonist’ of the game. Like I was for the 53rd season.”

“Right again,” the Hacker exclaimed. “Bonus points if you can guess what my title was?”

Shuichi thought for a moment. If the answer had contributed to Paris’ drive to kill…there was really only one option. “You were going to be a victim, weren’t you?” the Detective answered.

Paris clapped. “Three for three for the Ace Detective! You’re so good at this it’s almost annoying.” Her expression sobered. “‘Course, If I had been as smart as you back then, I might’ve figured out that the labels were fictional roles in the show known as Danganronpa. But at the time, I had no clue that there was an invisible writer working behind the scenes. Which meant I didn’t assume that ‘Main Lead’ was a character description. I assumed…”

“That he was the mastermind,” Shuichi finished, the pieces falling into place. “And if that was the case…”

“Then it was my job to stop him,” Paris laughed ruefully. “Danganronpa characters and their savior complexes, right?”

Shuichi fell silent. He knew all too well the emotions Paris must’ve felt at the time. The paranoia, the desperation…the burden of feeling like the only person capable of uncovering the truth. And the hope that one bold move would solve everything.

The Hacker stretched in her chair.  “I hope you don’t expect me to describe all the, uh, colorful details of my crime. Long story short: I did what I thought I had to. Only instead of ending the Killing Game, I kicked off another class trial. One where the person who had been solving all the cases was now the victim. And man…” she winced. “It was like I had just punched a hole in a crowded rowboat. Things got real ugly real fast.”

“And you didn’t confess?”

Paris scoffed. “Gee, how’d you guess?” She then flinched and rubbed her temples. “Sorry…it’s still something I’m wrestling with. But…thinking like me back then…I think I was too scared and confused to do anything but let the dominos fall. Maybe I thought that they were all in on it. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe. I dunno. Maybe I was just a stupid coward. Maybe I still am.”

Her gaze drifted into the distance, a shadow falling over her expression. “I don’t suppose Mr. Deduction can solve it from there?” she asked.

Shuichi paused. Doing the math wasn’t hard, but that didn’t make the answers easy. “If everyone else was executed, that would make you the Ultimate Survivor by default.  Which, if the rules stayed consistent between seasons, would mean wiping your memory and putting you back in the Killing Game with a Survivor Perk. Just like what happened to Rantaro.”

Paris nodded. “Yep yep yep. They nuked my brain and kicked me right back into the fray. But not before I made them agree to give me this.”

At that, Paris spun towards her desk and threw open a drawer. She rummaged inside for a second, then popped up over the back of her chair, displaying a miniature unicorn on a ceramic pedestal. “Ta-daaa. My Survivor Perk.”

“A…music box?” Shuichi asked, noting the key inserted in the base.

“Not just any music box,” the Hacker explained, winding it up. “In the fiction of Danganronpa, it was a birthday gift I received from my crush in the Reserve Course. That’s why I told them I wanted to bring it into the next game. ‘Cause even if my memories got wiped and they changed my backstory, I’d still have something to remember her by.”

Shuichi noticed the mischievous gleam in the Hacker’s eyes. “That wasn’t the real reason though, was it?”

“Nope,” Paris held the figure out in her palm. “Listen.” Gradually, the unicorn started spinning, accompanied by a tinkling rendition of “Für Elise.”

“It’s Beethoven,” the Detective observed.

“That’s what you hear, and that’s what Team Danganronpa heard. But I was focused more on what was underneath.”

Shuichi frowned, puzzled. He tried to tune the music out, and that’s when he realized: the faint clicking he had assumed was caused by the gears turning actually carried a distinct pattern. Like morse code.

“Hear it?” Paris asked, putting a hand to her ear. “It’s binary. Ones and zeroes. Clicks and pauses.” She stopped the unicorn and set it down on her desk. “Before my memories got wiped, I modified this music box so it would play a secret message. One that only the future me would pick up on.”

“What did it say?”

“It told me that everything was a lie. And then it gave me a password I could use to open a backdoor the past me had left in Team Danganronpa’s network.”

“And that’s what you used to escape,” Shuichi summarized. “Did any of your classmates come with you?”

“I…” Paris' eyes fell to the floor. “I tried to tell them but…well, that’s a whole other can of worms. Long story short: I left the 51st season on my own. Everyone else stayed, and the Killing Game like normal." She plopped back into her seat and crossed her arms. “The mastermind played off my disappearance like I had been murdered and then twisted it into a trial where the gimmick was a vanishing body.” She shrugged. “Say what you will about Team Danganronpa, they sure know how to make lemonade outta lemons.”

Shuichi tensed, the memory his first trial flashing through his mind. “That’s…one way of putting it,” he muttered.

“Huh?” The Hacker blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“It’s just…” The Detective searched for the right words. “I can’t help but notice: you seem to be taking this all pretty lightly.”

“Oh, I’m totally not!” Paris exclaimed, almost falling out of her chair. “I know it’s awful and gross, but…aggghhhh.” She rubbed her head furiously, as though trying to shuffle her emotions into place. “How do I explain it? I know all these bad things happened, but I can’t make myself feel the way I should. Maybe it’s ‘cause they wrote me to be such a goof. Or maybe it’s ‘cause my brain has been totally scrambled by all the conflicting memories. But thinking about what the past me did feels like remembering a childhood dream. There are so many pieces that are missing. So many moments feel like they happened in a different reality, starring a me that isn’t really me.”

She exhaled a frustrated breath. “I still have nightmares though. And ironically, they’re the closest I get to feeling the way I should. The way I deserve to feel. Maybe.”

She looked to the ceiling in thought. “Am I still guilty for what I did on that cruise? Or was that a girl who no longer exists? Once I start asking these sorts of questions, it’s hard for me to stop. I just end up confused and mad. So it’s easier to just go with my programming, act like my normal, carefree self, and pretend it really was all just a bad dream.”  

The Hacker drooped and rested her head against her folded knees. “But deep down, I know it wasn’t.” She turned her heavy gaze on Shuichi. “So what do you think, Ultimate Detective? Is the girl you’re speaking to Paris the Blackened? Or is she innocent?”

The question lingered in the air for what felt like an eternity. Shuichi watched the holographic clouds drift around him, wondering if it was even possible to find an answer. There were too many variables, too many causal quirks. To condemn or exonerate Paris, Shuichi would have to take a stance on the very nature of free will and selfhood. Could he make such a claim?

No, he realized with a bolt of clarity. But not because it was impossible; because it was answering the wrong question.

The Detective cleared his throat. “The short answer is, ‘I don’t know,’” he finally admitted. “But the better answer is: I don’t think it matters. The job of a detective isn’t to try and judge someone’s guilt or innocence; it’s to reveal the truth.

“And according to the evidence I’ve witnessed,” he continued, taking a step forward. “The Paris in front of me is brave, kind, and without her, my friends and I would probably all be erased. She’s someone I think I can consider a friend. That’s the truth I see.”

For a while, Paris said nothing in response. Then the hint of a sad smile appeared on her lips. “That’s a good answer,” she murmured. “I hope it’s the right one.”


	17. The Magician and the Overlord II / A Clandestine Conversation, An Uncertain Alliance

Himiko pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she entered the darkened mess hall. She didn’t care what Paris said about “automated heating solutions”—this bunker was practically freezing at night. ‘Course, it might’ve helped if Himiko had asked for warmer PJ’s. But the ones with the doves printed on them were so cute…

A familiar giggle caused Himiko to freeze in her tracks. The automated lights flickered on overhead, revealing the rest of the expansive cafeteria.  Plastic tables and benches lined the dining area on the left, while stuffed with couches and chairs formed a lounge on the right. The smart glass wall at the far end was on, the colors of a hyperactive cartoon dancing across the shimmering surface; illuminating the mirthful expression of Kokichi Oma.

The Overlord sat up and faced Himiko as she approached, his expression bright with shock. “I don’t believe it!” he exclaimed. “Four days as the hide and seek champion, only to be beaten by Himiko the moment I let my guard down.” His voice lowered. “Tell me the truth: you used a seeker spell to cheat, right?”

“I didn’t come here for you,” the Magician muttered, releasing the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Why was she not surprised? Days without even so much a hint of Kokichi’s shadow, and this is how he finally turned up: sprawled across a sofa, watching cartoons in the middle of the night. “I just came to get a glass of milk.”

“Oh?” The Overlord arched an eyebrow. “Hoping it’ll go straight to your chest, huh? Hate to break it to you, Himiko, but that’s not how that works.”

“I know that,” she huffed. “And anyway, you shouldn’t be talking down to me. I’m not the one staying up all night watching stupid kids’ shows.”

“Stupid kids’ shows? Is that what you think?” Kokichi smirked. “Oh Himiko, you’re too precious. Obviously a Supreme Leader such as myself wouldn’t waste his time on mindless entertainment. No, this is valuable research.”

“Research?” the Magician repeated dubiously.

“Precisely!” The Overlord snapped his fingers. “The stories a society tells its children are often very revealing. These cartoons are modern parables; they teach kids what’s good and bad, but they also show us the lessons adults think are _worth_ teaching. Which means the morals that cartoons feed kids are actually the simplest, clearest versions of the ideals their parents want to believe in. This isn’t a just ‘stupid show;’ it’s a treasure map to the true heart of this world!”

“Hmmmm,” Himiko looked up at the screen in time to see a pink rabbit character slip on a banana peel and go flying out a window. “I dunno about that...”

“Well nobody asked you!” Kokichi suddenly snapped, turning back to the screen and crossing his arms. “And now, thanks to you, I’ve missed the best part!”

Himiko rolled her eyes and continued making her way into the kitchen. A suite of shiny chrome utensils chirped to life as she entered the white tiled space, but the Magician ignored them and headed straight for the fridge. The potion she was making tonight was simple: a Sleep Aid Elixir she had learned from her master.

Or, at least, she remembered it that way.

Well, when you got down to it, right now it didn’t matter where the recipe came from; all that mattered was it would work. After pouring herself a cup of milk, Himiko rummaged through the expansive pantry in the back until she located a bag of white sugar. She hefted it over to the counter where her glass was waiting, then used a box of potatoes it as a step stool to reach the top shelf of ingredients. If Paris had processed phoenix droppings stored somewhere, that would be ideal. Alas: nutmeg and vanilla extract would have to do.

With her materials assembled, Himiko clapped her hands together and began to brew the potent concoction. 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, 2 tablespoons white sugar. Stir, then flourish. Pop in the microwave, and heat for 90 seconds while thinking cozy thoughts. Then, and this was important, add no more than a ¼ teaspoon of ground nutmeg with a shake of the spoon and…

“Only you would turn a glass of milk into a sacred ritual,” Kokichi scoffed.

Himiko started, nearly spilling the potion. When did Kokichi enter the kitchen? And how long had he been standing there? “N-nyeh,” she stammered. “What are you doing in here?”

“I got bored,” the Overlord yawned. “So I figured I’d come bug you instead!”

“Just my luck,” the Magician muttered, heading for the door.

“You should take it as a compliment! It means you’re more entertaining than cartoons! Not a lot of people can say that, you know. Hey, where are you going?”

“Back to my room, stupid.” Himiko pushed the door back to the mess hall open, only to have Kokichi trailing right behind her.

“B-but your milk will get cold if you walk all the way back there!” he gasped. “Here, let’s just grab a seat in the lounge.”

Himiko paused. It was true: the elixir’s power was most effective when it was still warm. And the lounge did look awfully comfy but…she shot a glare at Kokichi.

“I promise to be good,” he cowered. “Honest! I won’t even talk unless you talk to me first.”

“Hmmm…fine,” Himiko relented, padding over to the inviting couch. “But if you start teasing me, I’ll cast a ‘your favorite shows will never last more than one season’ curse on you.”

Kokichi swallowed. “H-hey, no need to go that far. I’ll behave.” He seated himself in the recliner some distance from her.

Satisfied, Himiko settled into the cushions, wrapping herself in her blanket before taking a long draught from her drink. She let out an involuntary sigh as the glass left her lips. It tasted the way head pats felt. She tried to turn her attention to the show on the screen, only to realize Kokichi was staring right at her. She quickly averted her gaze, yet his remained fixed on her, his lavender eyes shining in the corner of her vision. She waited, expecting a snide remark any second. But none came; true to his word, the Overlord remained silent.

“Okay, what do you want?” Himiko finally asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

Kokichi’s expression remained unreadable. “I just wanted you to know it was a lie, what I said earlier.”

 “What was?” The Magician took a long sip of her potion, bracing herself for the answer.

“Those jokes about your chest. I actually like it just the way it is.”

Himiko almost choked on her drink. “What?!” she sputtered and coughed. “How dare…I never asked...is that supposed to be funny?”

“Huh?” Kokichi seemed genuinely baffled. “I was just trying to be nice. Is that not allowed now?”

The Magician hunched over in her seat, glowering at the Overlord from over the rim of her glass. “It’s weird is what it is,” she said. “Why are you trying to get on my good side all of a sudden? Do you want something from me?”

“Perish the thought!” Kokichi swooned dramatically. “Am I so low in your eyes that you always think I have an ulterior motive?”

“Don’t pretend like you’re surprised. You’ve always got some kinda scheme up your sleeve.”

“Just ‘cause I’m a liar doesn’t mean I’m never honest,” Kokichi waved his hands. “I swear, this isn’t part of any crazy plan of mine. How could it be, when I didn’t even know you would be here tonight?”

“I guess…” Himiko frowned. It did seem unlikely that Kokichi knew she was going to be in the cafeteria this late at night. But still…what else would explain how weird he was acting? She couldn’t let her guard down just yet.

Kokichi shrugged and turned back to the show playing on the wall. Himiko did the same, only to hear the Overlord cough the moment her attention was elsewhere.

“Speaking of plans though,” he mused. “I wonder what everyone is planning to do now that we’ve escaped Team Danganronpa.”

The Magician raised her eyebrows. “Well…we have to fight back against them, right?”

“Oh?” Kokichi turned to face her. “Why do you say that?”

“W-well, I mean, we’re safe for now, but it’s not like they’re just gonna stop looking for us. A-and what if they try to start another Killing Game?”

“Hmm…” Kokichi leaned forward. “So you’re saying we should, what? Try and destroy Team Danganronpa?”

“I-I guess.” The truth was, she hadn’t really thought about the specifics. It seemed obvious that she and her friends wouldn’t be really free until Team Danganronpa was gone but...how would that even happen?

Kokichi nodded. “The others are probably thinking along similar lines. I bet Shuichi is trying to find some hidden truth to Team Danganronpa, some shocking revelation about their leaders or the Killing Game he can use to short-circuit their power, like he did during the Killing Semester. Paris is most likely looking for a way to crash all their servers or steal their data or something. And Maki…psh, all she ever wants to do is find whoever’s responsible and cut their head off. Points for simplicity, I guess.” He leaned forward. “Which plan do you think sounds best?”

“Nyeh?” Himiko flinched. “Uhhh….” she touched her chin in thought. “I-I dunno. They all sound like they might work…maybe?”

“What if, hypothetically, there was a fourth option?” Kokichi grinned. “One that didn’t just target Team Danganronpa, but the society that built them as well?”

The society that built them? Himiko wasn’t sure what that meant but…hey, wait a minute. “Is this ‘hypothetical plan’ actually yours?” she asked.

“Whaaaaat?” Kokichi laughed. “Don’t be silly, I’m not that proactive! I go wherever the fun goes, remember? I’m just playing a thought game with you.”

“Liar,” Himiko’s eyes narrowed. “When I went to go save Maki, you shouted something after me that I haven’t forgotten. You said I shouldn’t let Maki kill that Danganronpa lady ‘cause ‘it would ruin everything.’ Which means you were already starting to plan something, weren’t you?”

The smile slipped from Kokichi’s face, replaced with a blank mask of indifference.

“Is that what this is all about?” the Magician pressed. “Is that why you’re being nice to me? So I’ll go along with whatever you’re cooking up?”

For a moment, Kokichi said nothing. Then a familiar gleam entered his eyes. “Well. Seems I’ve underestimated you,” he said. “You really are pretty entertaining after all.”

Himiko stiffened, but held her ground. “So what do you really want?”

“Tomorrow, Paris is going to call a team meeting so we can figure out our next move. I’m going to present my vision then, and I want you to help me.”

“Help you? How?”

“Oh, just voice your support when the time is right,” Kokichi winked. “I have a feeling some of the others might take some convincing.”

Himiko paused, almost afraid to ask. “A-and why is that?” she murmured.

“Because I don’t just want revenge,” the Overlord’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “I want revolution.”

 


End file.
